Outside the window, another car passed by, its lights briefly illuminating the interior.
At that moment, Lu Xing looked back in the reflection of the windshield and saw himself three years ago: wearing a Spark uniform, eyes as sharp as knives, fingers flying on the keyboard, teammates' shouts coming from the headset, and the fateful battlefield before him.
Then the image disappeared, leaving him alone: wearing a pressed shirt, with a restrained expression, sitting alone in a quiet car.
He took a deep breath and finally turned the key and started the engine. The headlights cut through the darkness of the garage, and the engine roared to life.
The car slowly drove out of the underground garage and merged into the traffic flow of the evening street. The city lights begin to turn on, the neon lights begin to flash, and the pulse of the night gradually accelerates.
Lu Xing looked back at the front, his expression calm, but the knuckles of his hands holding the steering wheel were slightly white.
Some tides, once they start flowing back, never stop.
And the first wave has already hit my heart.
Games, teams, big hands of capital, revenge