Rainy Night

Beside the Qinglong Mountain Highway, Yang Chu, drenched to the bone, slumped against a phone booth, gasping for breath.

After leaving that desolate warehouse, he had stumbled through the rain for nearly a kilometer, collapsing several times as he forgot to breathe and his heart threatened to stop. Finally, he managed to drag himself into this phone booth by the roadside.

The increasingly heavy rain, coupled with torn leg ligaments, a slightly fractured foot bone, and the injuries from his kidnapping and beating, left his body in terrible shape.

Pain, weakness, a body growing heavier with every passing moment—

Even though Yang Chu's conscious mind could ignore the negative feedback from his body, making it move forward like a machine, the complex operations of his internal systems were becoming overwhelming for his mind to keep up with.

At this moment, Yang Chu's brain felt like a frantic worker trying to manage multiple assembly lines at once, doing everything it could to keep all his body's systems running smoothly.

The loss of his subconscious, which required him to actively control every system in his body, was an incredibly challenging task.

But fortunately, his consciousness was slowly adapting. Whether stimulating his heart to beat, breathing, or occasionally adjusting the operations of his other systems, it was all becoming a repetitive, rhythmic process.

It was like playing a drum set. One moment he needed to step on the bass drum and hi-hat pedals; the next, he had to hit the snare drum or tap the toms and crash cymbals.

There were many threads to manage, but as he stopped his motor system and leaned against the phone booth, he found a moment of mental clarity to reflect on the information he had gathered.

The glass door of the phone booth was plastered with blue traditional Chinese characters for "Island Communications" and various illegal advertisements. The heavy metal payphone inside was covered with phone numbers from different regions.

"So, I've traveled back to Hong Kong in the '80s or '90s..."

From the phone numbers posted in the booth and various ads, as well as the Hong Kong dollars he had found on that thug, Yang Chu roughly figured out his location.

Hong Kong Island.

As for the time—

There wasn't much concrete information in the phone booth, but inside the wallet, there was an ID card belonging to what appeared to be a street thug, born in 1966. Judging by his age, which seemed to be in his twenties or thirties, Yang Chu deduced that it was likely the late '80s or early '90s.

He now had some idea of his location and the era he was in, but these realizations didn't help solve his current problems.

In the past half-hour, the more he grasped control over his body's eight systems, the more he realized how dire his physical condition was.

After all, this was a body that had been beaten, imprisoned, and revived after death.

"My first goal now is to find a place to rest."

The next step, Yang Chu knew, was to think about where he could settle down.

Even though he was aware that he was on Hong Kong Island, his surroundings were desolate, with no villages in sight. It seemed like a remote suburban area.

When he arrived in this body, it had already been dead, with no subconscious, no memory, and no possessions.

The only things he had were the wallet and ID, which belonged to the deceased thug.

This meant that Yang Chu had no way of retrieving the social connections this body once had, let alone finding a place to stay.

Judging from the situation in which the previous owner of this body had been kidnapped and beaten, it seemed unlikely that he was a wealthy person being held for ransom. More likely, he had been caught up in some dangerous affair beyond his control.

Moreover, Yang Chu's consciousness had to constantly control his body's systems to keep them functioning. Even staying still, he couldn't afford long moments of self-reflection, or one of his body's systems might "crash."

Yang Chu could clearly feel the warnings being sent through his nervous system from all parts of his body.

The cold rain soaking him was causing his body temperature to drop, his muscles were extremely fatigued, his energy was depleted, making him intensely hungry, and there were many injuries from his captivity and beatings—

Even though Yang Chu, in his state of conscious control, could ignore these negative feedback signals, he knew that if this continued, even if his body didn't die again, it would suffer long-term damage.

From the feedback his body was giving him, Yang Chu sensed that he was currently burning stored energy, essentially consuming his body's fat.

This was a natural biochemical reaction that occurred when the body's systems were functioning but was beyond Yang Chu's control.

But given his weakening condition, he knew he needed to replenish his energy and tend to his wounds as soon as possible.

Suddenly, a light appeared on the distant highway, cutting through the rainy night.

"Hm? A car passing by?"

Yang Chu perked up, consciously forcing his heart to beat faster. His sluggish body, with an accelerated blood flow, became stronger and more agile. Despite his injured left leg, he dashed to the roadside with remarkable speed.

This was something Yang Chu had figured out after leaving the warehouse. His consciousness could stimulate the sinoatrial node in his heart via the nervous system, speeding up his heart rate and promoting circulation, giving him a burst of temporary power.

However, the car that sped past showed no intention of stopping, even after Yang Chu waved his hand to flag it down. It zoomed by him and disappeared into the night.

"Looks like I'm not going to get a ride this way."

Yang Chu watched the car fade away, then slowly sat down by the roadside.

His heart began to calm down from its frantic beating, and the pain and weakness in his body returned to his consciousness.

Hunger, hypothermia, pain, exhaustion—

He could only try to minimize energy expenditure.

Standing in the middle of the road, Yang Chu gazed at the headlights of an approaching vehicle. The blinding high beams made it hard to see what type of vehicle it was, but he had no intention of dodging.

Perhaps due to the rainy night, the car was not moving too fast. The driver didn't notice Yang Chu standing in the middle of the road until the car was about three or four meters away and then slammed on the brakes.

But the wet road and the momentum of the moving car made it impossible to stop immediately.

At this critical moment, Yang Chu seemed to observe everything as if from a third-person perspective. With his mastery over his motor system, he deftly sidestepped just in time, barely avoiding the oncoming car.

Screech—

The sound of tires skidding on the pavement filled the air.

The car came to a sudden halt, its engine stalling just a short distance away from Yang Chu.

It was a taxi that had stopped. Through the rain-splattered glass, Yang Chu could vaguely see the driver gripping the steering wheel tightly, his face a mix of panic and heavy breathing.

"Sorry, it's hard to get a cab around here. I've been waiting a long time."

Yang Chu tapped on the window, a polite smile forming on his face.

The driver was a young man in his late twenties or early thirties with a mild, bookish look. Startled by Yang Chu's knock, he seemed taken aback again.

Seeing Yang Chu clearly through the glass, his eyes filled with anger and suspicion. Still, he didn't respond to Yang Chu and instead muttered something under his breath, reaching for the ignition to start the car and drive away.

"Please, take me to the nearest place with people," Yang Chu said, realizing the driver wasn't willing to give him a ride. He quickly stepped in front of the car.

Yang Chu wasn't surprised that the driver was reluctant to pick him up. Kind-hearted people existed everywhere, but not everyone would stop.

After all, it was the middle of a rainy night in a remote suburb, and a battered man suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Ignoring him was a natural reaction.

But Yang Chu was completely unfamiliar with the surroundings, his body was in poor condition, and he needed to constantly manage his internal systems.

Having waited so long for a taxi, Yang Chu had no choice but to try and persuade this one to get him out of this wilderness.

The engine had started again, the low rumble of the taxi's motor particularly distinct in the rainy night.

The young driver in the front seat stared at Yang Chu, who stood in front of the car, his face showing anger. He honked twice, hard.

"Just take me to the next place with people," Yang Chu insisted, blocking the car. He pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills from the wallet he had taken from the thug and slapped them onto the hood.

To Yang Chu, the driver was probably afraid of him being a robber or something worse. Without any profit, he naturally wouldn't want to bother with him.

"I'm not taking you!"

But to Yang Chu's surprise, the driver not only refused but also rolled down the window a bit and shouted at him, his voice nearly hysterical.

Yang Chu frowned and moved aside.

He noticed that the taxi was empty; there were no other passengers. He couldn't quite understand whether the driver, working the night shift to make a living, was too scared or if there was something else going on.

Still, Yang Chu didn't give up entirely. If he missed this taxi, he didn't know how long it would be before another vehicle or person came by.

Looking at the twisted and contorted face behind the windshield, Yang Chu deliberately adopted a threatening tone: "License plate CW1141, I'll report you for refusing to take me."

Yang Chu wasn't familiar with Hong Kong Island's taxi industry, so he wasn't sure if this threat would work.Upon hearing Yang Chu's threat, the young taxi driver didn't drive away as expected. Instead, he remained in the driver's seat, his expression shifting unpredictably as his lips moved slightly, as if he were mumbling something under his breath.

Yang Chu endured the rain for quite some time, waiting. Finally, the young driver turned his head, sized him up through the glass, and rolled down the window a bit more. He waved at Yang Chu and, with a reluctant tone, said, "Alright, alright, get in. You look pitiful enough."

"Thank you!"

Hearing the sound of the car door unlocking, Yang Chu expressed his gratitude, quickly walked over to the back seat, opened the door, and got in.

He didn't know if the driver was intimidated by his threat or enticed by the few hundred-dollar bills, or perhaps had a sudden change of heart—it didn't matter. At this moment, Yang Chu just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible and find somewhere to rest.

Once inside the car, Yang Chu glanced at the young driver up front. Under the dim reading light, he noticed the driver's name tag on the dashboard.

Lin Guoyu.

Upon seeing the name, Yang Chu felt a vague sense of familiarity.

It wasn't that the name reminded him of his recent experiences in the rain, but rather there was a fleeting feeling that he had heard it somewhere before, though he couldn't quite recall where.

Perhaps it was because his consciousness had been revived in a recently deceased body; not only had he failed to inherit the original owner's memories, but even many of his own pre-transmigration memories had become somewhat blurred.

The taxi restarted, and Lin Guoyu, the young driver in the front seat, kept glancing at Yang Chu in the rearview mirror, his eyes filled with suspicion and scrutiny.

Noticing the driver's wary gaze, Yang Chu didn't bother to care.

Most of his attention remained focused on maintaining the operations of his body's internal systems.

Since leaving the phone booth to hail a cab, he had sensed that the internal systems of his body were becoming somewhat disorganized and sluggish, requiring immediate adjustment.

"Hey, buddy, did you get hurt?"

About three to five minutes into the drive, Lin Guoyu suddenly broke the silence.

Yang Chu leaned limply against the back seat. His eyes, which were half-closed, opened a sliver as he casually replied, "I fell near the coast."

"Well, you must've taken quite a tumble." The young driver pointed to Yang Chu's head through the rearview mirror, suddenly becoming enthusiastic, "Do you want me to find you a clinic?"

"No need, I'm fine," Yang Chu replied indifferently. He touched his forehead, feeling the wound from where he'd been hit with a wooden stick. Without the rain to wash it away, blood had started seeping out again.

Given his current condition, treating the external wound was not his priority. Instead, he needed a good meal to replenish the energy his body had lost.

Then, he needed to find a quiet place to rest and reduce his activities to further stabilize the operation of his internal systems. This was the priority.

This way, Yang Chu could, under stable conditions, free up a bit of mental capacity to think about what to do next.

"Suit yourself then." Lin Guoyu shrugged, clearly feeling that his good intentions were wasted. After a brief pause, he added, "After passing Jialong Village, we'll reach the Qinglongtou Pier up ahead. There are places to eat and stay there. Do you want to get off there?"

"Sure!"

Yang Chu didn't waste words. He glanced at the left side of the highway and could vaguely see some lights flickering in the dark, rainy night, probably the Jialong Village that Lin Guoyu mentioned.

Jialong Village wasn't far from the phone booth where Yang Chu had been. It was only a few kilometers away, but being completely unfamiliar with the surroundings, he wasn't sure if his body could make it there.

After a brief exchange, silence returned to the car.

Thud, thud, thud—

Suddenly, just as Yang Chu had closed his eyes again, he heard a knocking sound coming from the trunk.

Lin Guoyu, the driver, stiffened at the noise and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Then he suddenly shouted, "Cai Cai, stop making noise! We're almost home. If you keep this up, I'll slaughter you."

As he spoke, Lin Guoyu glanced back at Yang Chu through the rearview mirror, his expression apologetic, "Sorry about that. There's a Labrador in the trunk—my dad's. I took him to the vet just now. Man, it's a rip-off! Nowadays, treating pets costs as much as treating people. I swear, if there's a next life, I'd rather be a dog!"

Listening to Lin Guoyu's rambling, Yang Chu remained silent, slowly closing his eyes again.

However, the knocking in the trunk continued, occasionally accompanied by muffled grunts.

To Yang Chu, the noises didn't sound much like canine whimpering, but he didn't have the mental bandwidth to think further about it. Most of his focus remained on keeping his body's internal systems in operation.

"Help! Help—"

Suddenly, after a series of muffled sounds, a voice filled with a crying, desperate plea burst out from the trunk.

Screech—

The taxi skidded to an abrupt stop in the middle of the highway.