CHAPTER 271: CHAPTER 81: THE PATRICIDAL MAN

The taxi weaved through the city streets, and Su Ziceng suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to ask the old man his name.

The old man was right. No sooner had the car gotten halfway than a heavy snow began to fall, common in the north, like snow falling from a duster, pure white, piling up on the ground. Stepped on by children’s feet, it became tightly packed, and it didn’t melt away for many days.

A half-hour journey on any ordinary day took an hour and a half tonight. Every car was desperately crawling along, but fortunately, she finally arrived. "This damned weather, should’ve stopped running cars earlier," the taxi driver complained.

When the car stopped at the hotel entrance, the snow splashed onto the bystanders from the pressure of the wheels, and Su Ziceng quickly apologized. The one standing there, however, did not speak. She didn’t take further notice either and hurried into the warmth of the indoors after paying.

Halfway through, Su Ziceng felt something odd in her heart. The person standing outside the hotel was neither a security guard nor a doorman. In such bitter cold, why just stand there doing nothing?

The sound of falling snow, or perhaps the sound of light laughter. The man in the black coat shifted his stiff feet, revealing his eyes - dark eyes, shimmering with lake-blue light.

"Pello!" Su Ziceng saw the snow on his shoulder; he was actually standing outside, "How did you get here?"

"Took the train," Pello’s sparse casual words defeated Su Ziceng. She hadn’t thought that besides planes, one could also return by train. But the train system from a dozen years ago was as slow as a turtle. From Mo City to Bianjing City it probably took a day and a night, didn’t it? Her nose felt a little sour, probably from the cold wind.

On a certain open ground in Bianjing City, Shang Yin was cursing: "Pello the madman, insisting on reaching Bianjing City in such a heavy snowstorm, as if in a rush to be reincarnated."

In the middle of the open ground stood a private Black Hawk helicopter. Shang Yin was having someone clear the snow piled up on the propellers; a thick layer had accumulated in just half an hour.

He kept swearing: "If I had known, I wouldn’t have bothered getting a helicopter pilot’s license just for fun. Now I’ve been ordered around like a mule."

According to Shang Yin’s temperament, in such extremely bad weather, he ought to have been in a room heated by a blazing fireplace, cuddling a beauty through the clear flames, drinking fine wine. Anyway, he could have been enjoying himself in any way, certainly not like today, fighting a life-and-death battle against a snowstorm in a rattling Black Hawk helicopter, landing in a godforsaken place without wine or women.

The worst thing was, while Shang Yin was frantically operating the joystick during the flight, nearly scaring the piss out of himself, Pello was leisurely leaning back in his seat, legs crossed, sleeping blissfully.

After several hours of bumping around, Pello got off the helicopter looking sprightly, while Shang Yin’s face had turned pale from fright.

"I must owe him from a past life," Shang Yin looked at the helicopter’s propellers roaring to life again, thinking that he had yet another battle with the bad weather ahead, his legs shaking. He spat, climbed back up, and yanked the door shut, shaking off the freshly fallen show from the top of the helicopter.

"Why did you come?" Back in the hotel, Su Ziceng looked at Pello in surprise.

"I heard the fireworks in Bianjing City were beautiful, so I came," Pello said, smelling the coffee aroma, looking at Su Ziceng. That was all he could say; he certainly couldn’t mention that he declined Wen Maixue’s invitation for New Year’s Eve dinner. Watching the snow disaster reports on the news, his yearning for Su Ziceng inexplicably fermented in his heart.

When did it start? Perhaps it started that day he ate the vegetarian sandwich with Su Ziceng’s scent, and since that day, he felt like there was a hole in his heart. Su Ziceng’s image kept stuffing into it until New Year’s Eve, when it finally burst while he and Shang Yin were drinking. That’s when he brought up the idea of going to Bianjing City.

Shang Yin, of course, did not agree, so they started a drinking contest. Shang Yin couldn’t stand being provoked; after drinking, he still tried to pretend his mind was functioning. A man whose mind truly functioned after drinking wouldn’t have taken a helicopter out on a whim. Only a truly clever person could sit opposite Su Ziceng, enjoying her surprised and annoyed expressions. Shang Yin could only rush through the snowstorm towards his temptations in Mo City.