The radioactive dust stuck in the throat like rust.
When Changsun Xecang opened his eyes, he was lying on a pile of hot metal debris. There was a tearing pain in his left arm—no, it was the memory being torn apart. Two completely different life trajectories were colliding savagely in his skull.
One is an ordinary social animal on earth who died suddenly after staying up late.
The other is a "diplomatic liaison" at a gathering place on the edge of the wasteland, and his patrol car has just been overturned by a radiation storm.
"Fuck..."
He pushed himself up, broken glass falling from his combat uniform. In the distance, under a leaden dome, a crooked radio tower stands like a tombstone. This is the year 217 of the New Era. The first hundred years after the collapse of civilization.
The memory fusion was completed roughly but quickly. He now knows: The "Rust Town" where he is located has a population of only three hundred, and it survives by digging up pre-war ruins. And he was one of the only literate people in the town, so he had a casual job as a liaison officer - responsible for exchanging information with several surrounding gathering places, exchanging half a bag of moldy potatoes for some expired antibiotics.
"Brother Cang! Are you still alive?!"
Hoarse shouts came from down the slope. A young man wrapped in a dustproof cloth rushed up, his face covered with mud and blood - he was the assistant assigned to him, Xiao Nail.
"I can't die." Changsun Xicang spat out a mouthful of gray blood and stood up unsteadily, "Is the car broken?"
"The radio station was also smashed." Little Nail said sadly, "Old Scarface will definitely deduct our ration for this month..."
Old Scarface. The leader of Rust Town. The former leader of the Reavers has a melting scar across his face.
