Incredible as it seemed, Hell did have nights. But when you looked up, the sky was pitch-black, without a single star.
Xie De had changed into casual clothes and stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows on the ninth floor of a hotel-the tallest building in the city-looking down.
Night swallowed the outlines of the buildings. Neon gleamed on the dry ground, reflecting the flames burning across the street. Speeding cars spewed choking exhaust before crashing into oncoming traffic, joining the revelry of the flames.
Cheap alcohol and equally cheap blood took the place of rainwater and filthy runoff, pooling in the streets.
The whole land seemed to say, welcome to Hell.
Bang, bang, bang.
Someone knocked at the door.
Xie De went to open it and found Wei Yanchi standing outside, just as he had expected. The young man had cleaned himself up and changed clothes, his wounds wrapped in white bandages.
He looked much gentler and fresher now, stripped of that decadent, sultry air. His eyes held a clear, bright smile, making him look like an artsy young man who ought to carry a guitar and write poetry.
He waved the bottle in his hand, already stepping inside as he asked, "May I come in?"
Xie De watched him enter and closed the door. "What are you doing here?"
Wei Yanchi went to fetch glasses as though he were right at home. "Seeing whether you need my help, Mr. Xie."
Xie De leaned against the door and watched him. "What would I need your help with in the middle of the night?"
"Then I need a favor from you, sir. Would you taste a drink I mix?"
"...Where did you get the liquor?"
"From the café."
The café had liquor?
Clear liquor poured into a glass, giving off such a