The rain poured down in torrents.
It was as if someone had torn open a hole in the sky. Black clouds hung low, almost pressing against the roof of the car. The windshield wipers swung back and forth across the glass at top speed, making a monotonous, hurried scraping sound, but their effect was negligible—the water they cleared away was immediately covered by fresh streams. The windshield remained veiled by a flowing curtain of water, warping the entire world into blurred lights and shadows.
Chen Motong could only slow down. In the rainy night, the headlights were sliced by the rain into countless fine, needle-like beams that danced ahead, as though something were flickering in and out of sight within the darkness.
In the back seat, Finn was unusually quiet. He lowered his head and stared at his laptop screen, its glow bleaching his ever-grinning face pale. He was still investigating information related to Lu Mang.
The accident had happened many years ago. Back then, the internet had not yet become as pervasive as it was now. To uncover the truth of that year, they could only rely on the most primitive methods—digging through old newspapers and checking old records.
The benefits of having repeated grades for so many years were finally showing themselves.
Finn knew students from countless graduating classes, so many that even he could not count them. Connections were always useful at critical moments.
He had asked an alumnus who had stayed in the city after graduation to search through old newspapers in the municipal Library archives. The man had been loyal enough, photographing every relevant report he could find and sending them over in a bundle.
NOMA had organized the materials in perfect order. But some things could not be solved through organization alone—those fragments scattered