Rain is the best fig leaf for the Golden Triangle at night.
It washed away the filth on the muddy streets, but it also stirred up a deeper smell of blood and decay that settled in the soil. The "Three No Matters" market "Mole Alley" located in the border area is even more active in the rain. The neon signs cast distorted light and shadow on the wet stone road, reflecting several faces that were either greedy, frightened, or numb. Everything prohibited by law is traded here, including human lives.
Lin Shuo sat in the shadow of the corner of the "Old Smoking Gun" bar, like a rock melting into the wall. The glass of low-quality whiskey in front of him was barely touched, the ice cubes melting and diluting the amber liquid. Rain dripped from the brim of his worn-out assault jacket, forming a small puddle of darkness at his feet.
His presence is so low that even the waiters who shuttle to deliver drinks will subconsciously bypass the area where he is. But several veterans in the bar who are really licking blood with their swordsmen will have a kind of vigilance that is not easy to detect when their eyes sweep over that corner. They knew that there was a "ghost" sitting there.
A character who only exists in rumors and can rescue people from that "hell on earth". It's expensive, its whereabouts are unpredictable, and it's hard to tell whether it's genuine or fake.
The bell on the door rang hoarsely, and a soaked young woman in a cheap raincoat stumbled in. Her face was pale, her eyes were red and swollen, and she glanced fearfully in the dim light. Finally, as if being pulled by an invisible thread, she landed in the darkest corner.
She hesitated and moved over step by step, her fingers clenching the corners of the raincoat so tightly that her joints turned white...
