Apocalypse Forecast

The silent overpass was filled with nothing but the roaring sound of rainwater.

The endless downpour seemed to peel this place away from the mortal world, cutting off everything, devouring the whole world.

"So this is what you look like."

Huai Shi opened the car door, gazing at the old man inside. He ignored the handgun pointed at his face and surveyed him seriously. The man's mottled white hair was meticulous, his expression dignified, and his suit crisp. He looked as if he had just stepped down from a podium.

"Really… quite a respectable face."

Huai Shi pushed aside the slightly trembling handgun and, soaked, sat down in the car opposite Qi Wen. His clothes, drenched with rain and blood, left stains on the genuine leather sofa.

Rich people have it good.

Glancing around the intricately decorated, spacious car interior, he looked down at the soft carpet beneath his feet and the black footprints he had left. He smacked his lips and asked, "Got a smoke?"

Qi Wen didn't speak, the veins on the back of his gun-holding hand bulging, gripping with so much force. Yet, he lacked the courage to pull the trigger. After a long while, his hand fell powerlessly to his knees.

Meanwhile, Huai Shi, after casually rummaging around, found several cigars sealed in copper tubes in a hidden compartment in the armrest. They looked so fancy it was absurd, and they even smelled of money.

"Thanks."

After a polite thank you, Huai Shi took out a knife to pry open the copper tube. Imitating what he'd seen in movies, he cut off both ends of the cigar. However, it seemed he cut too much; the whole cigar nearly unraveled, making him quickly clutch it tightly.

After all, if one unraveled, it would be a waste of a lot of money.

He thought for a moment, then took two more, planning to bring them back for Old Liu to try.

In the silence, Qi Wen quietly watched Huai Shi's destitute-looking antics as he rummaged around the car, and finally spoke in a hoarse voice.

"Where's He Luo?"

"Dead."

Huai Shi, rummaging in his pockets for a lighter, casually informed him, "If you look back by the traffic barrier, that's him lying on the ground."

Qi Wen froze.

His lips parted stiffly, but no words came out. Eventually, he leaned weakly back against his seat, his mottled white hair hanging limp.

It was as if he had collapsed in an instant. Beneath his simmering hatred, a trace of weary old age finally surfaced.

And Huai Shi had finally found the lighter.

He held the damp lighter in his hand, flicked a flame, and lit the end of the cigar. He took a deep puff, then, predictably, started coughing violently.

He'd inhaled it into his lungs.

Almost immediately, he threw the cigar out of the window in disgust. What a hassle to smoke; this can't be any good. These rich people must have too much money to burn.

"Excuse me for a moment."

He finally remembered something. Waving his hand, he began searching his pockets again, muttering, "Antidote, antidote, where's the antidote... Ah, here it is."

He pulled out a small bottle from his inner pocket, with a colorless, viscous liquid sloshing inside, looking like glue.

Raven had assured him it was outstandingly effective, but something still felt off.

Huai Shi smelled it doubtfully, detecting no strange odor. He downed it in one gulp and immediately felt an intense bitterness exploding in his mouth, extending downwards, irritating his throat and esophagus, finally roiling in his stomach.

It felt like a relentless hand digging inside him, gathering all the toxic fumes and pulling them into a ball.

Then, Huai Shi's complexion changed abruptly. He instinctively covered his mouth, bent over quickly, and started vomiting violently.

A pile of green blood clots, his lunch, and the milk tea he had bought on the way here—it all came out, splattering obtrusively onto Qi Wen's handmade leather shoes.

"Tissue, tissue…"

Huai Shi frantically fumbled for tissues, yanked the box over, haphazardly wiped his face, then pulled out two more to blow his nose.

At last, he threw the wadded tissues out the window, into the silent, desolate cold rain.

He let out a long sigh, finally relaxing. The capillaries on his face, which had turned an inky green, gradually returned to their normal color, revealing his somewhat youthful, calm expression.

He looked at Qi Wen before him, examining him closely, then suddenly asked, "Have you eaten?"

"…"

Qi Wen lifted his eyes to glance at him, looking at him as if he were a fool, but remained silent.

"To be honest, I thought you would run."

Huai Shi grinned. "Like a game of hide-and-seek: you be the human, I'll be the ghost. You run ahead, I chase after... Plus, it's raining. See? How romantic!"

"You've won, Huai Shi. Congratulations, you've successfully ruined my career and my life."

Across from him, the old man watched Huai Shi's gleeful expression with cold eyes and slowly raised the gun in his hand. "You can revel in your victory; that's the winner's right. But don't think I'll grovel at your feet."

With that, he glanced arrogantly at Huai Shi one last time.

He pressed the handgun against his jaw.

Pulled the trigger.

In the silence, there was only the sound of rain.

The sound of rain outside the car windows and the sound of it seemingly from inside them blended together, indistinguishable.

Only a hoarse scream burst out suddenly, soaked with agony, as if to pierce Huai Shi's eardrums.

Qi Wen's hand fell to the ground, along with his handgun.

Blood sprayed from the smooth cut at his elbow. It streamed down his fine suit and, like a meandering rivulet, pooled on the soft carpet, staining it a gradually spreading dark red.

"Calm down, I didn't mean to insult you, and I don't really want to be this brutal," Huai Shi earnestly corrected. "Actually, I just wanted to see you smile."