The New Shanghai City in 2077 is always shrouded in a light blue haze, which is the wake left by the high-altitude suspended rail train passing through the atmosphere, mixed with the neon of the holographic billboards on the ground, dyeing the glass windows of No. 3 High School like a canvas that has been repeatedly colored. Lu Xu leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window of the training hall, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the calluses on his palms - the hard shells worn out by ten years of shooting. In this era where everyone relies on neural implants to improve their reaction speed, this layer of calluses has become a sign of alienation.
