As night fell, a cold breeze swept over the road, kicking up clouds of dust. A zombie's decayed, limp foot suddenly stepped onto a tattered newspaper caught in the wind. It stopped momentarily, growled twice, and continued forward.
Liu Fugui stood tall on the rooftop of the office building, hands behind his back, eyes sharp. He had been silently standing there for 15 minutes, not saying a word, as if he were merely admiring the scenery.
The cigar in his hand was slowly inhaled, the glowing embers flickering like the ghostly flames of Hell, quite unsettling.
As Liu Fugui remained silent, his subordinates dared not make even a sound.
Yet in such fierce cold winds, daydreaming was far from pleasant, and just as his subordinates felt their calves cramp and bodies shiver, Liu Fugui finally spoke: "Huang Yong, still no contact with He Lei?"
"Mr. Liu, not yet. According to plan, he should have contacted us immediately after finding that survivor, but so far... there's no news at all."
