Chapter 384: The "Ghost" Flight on New Year's Eve
Jiang Ci sighed and pulled his mask back down, covering most of his face. “Buddy, I didn’t escape from prison. Just got off work.”
The security officer’s finger trembled slightly.
That voice.
It eerily overlapped with the coughing sounds from the TV just moments ago.
He didn’t press that alarm bell.
He swiped the ID card through the machine and handed it back to Jiang Ci with both hands.
“Go ahead.” The security officer’s voice was very soft. “You acted really well… Take care of your health, don’t catch a cold.”
Jiang Ci took the ID card, wiped it on his worn-out overcoat, and stuffed it back into his inner pocket.
He grinned at the security officer, revealing a mouthful of white teeth. “Thanks. Happy New Year.”
Watching that hunched, retreating back, the security officer sniffled.
What Film Emperor was this?
This was just a kid who had suffered wrongs outside and was desperately trying to get home.
…
Lin Wan used her money power to forcibly book half of the entire first-class cabin, creating an absolutely isolated, vacuum-like zone for Jiang Ci.
She understood all too well how dangerous Jiang Ci was right now.
A flight attendant pushed the meal cart over, her eyes repeatedly sweeping over Jiang Ci. Professionalism made her almost swallow her tongue trying to hold back the words, “Sir, you’re in the wrong cabin.”
“Champagne? Red wine?” The flight attendant maintained an awkward yet polite smile.
Jiang Ci was curled up completely in his seat.
He wrapped that expensive wool blanket around himself, leaving only his eyes exposed.
“Do you have plain hot water? Warm.”
“Of course, sir.”
A cup of steaming hot water was placed on the small tray table.
Jiang Ci held the paper cup, feeling the warmth travel from his fingertips into his body.
At this moment, no 1982 Lafite was as real and substantial as this cup of scalding hot water.
The plane began to taxi, accelerate, and take off.
A powerful sense of being pushed back came, pressing Jiang Ci firmly into his seat.
The moment the hour hand crossed midnight, the plane was precisely in its descent phase.
Jiang Ci turned his head sideways, pressing his face against the window.
Below, the originally pitch-black land suddenly exploded with countless dazzling points of light.
Fireworks.
At midnight on New Year’s Eve, the entire nation was boiling.
That reunion belonged to others.
Jiang Ci looked down at this grand human frenzy through the thick double-layered glass.
“So lively,” he murmured to himself.
The system panel was silent.
The Heartbreak Value had already stopped fluctuating. That lifespan sufficient to let him live into his forties couldn’t fill the sudden, empty hole in his heart right now.
In this extreme contrast, he drifted into a drowsy sleep.
His dream was full of rain.
That “Pig Cage Tenement” that was always raining.
He was running wildly through the maze-like alleys, every door looking exactly the same.
Finally, he stopped before a rusted iron door.
He banged on the door forcefully, shouting, “Mom, I’m back.”
The door opened.
But the person opening it wasn’t the gray-haired Madam Chu Hong.
It was a young man wearing a police uniform.
The man’s cap badge was gleaming brightly. Holding a bowl of steaming hot dumplings, he looked at Jiang Ci, drenched from head to toe, and said with a smile, “You brat, why are you only back now? The dumplings are cold.”
Jiang Ci wanted to shout “Dad,” but couldn’t utter a single word.
He desperately reached out to grab that bowl of dumplings, but his hand passed right through the man’s body, grabbing only a handful of cold rainwater.
“Sir? Sir?”
Jiang Ci’s eyes snapped open.
The plane had already landed. The broadcast was playing the announcement, “Arrived at Star City.”
…
The snow in Star City was even thicker than in the capital.
When the cabin door opened, a raw, cold wind carrying dampness drilled straight into his collar.
It was a damp cold that penetrated straight to the bone.
This was the south.
This was home.
Jiang Ci tightened his military overcoat. That feeling of being frozen through actually made his mind incredibly clear.
A very inconspicuous black Volkswagen Passat was parked in the shadows at the exit of the VIP channel.
The driver was a taciturn middle-aged uncle. Seeing Jiang Ci board the car dressed like this, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow. He just glanced at Jiang Ci through the rearview mirror and muttered, “Happy New Year.”
“Happy New Year,” Jiang Ci replied.
The car drove into the city center.
The streets of Star City in the early morning were deserted. The snow piled by the roadside reflected the orange-yellow glow of the streetlights.
Occasionally, a few sporadic sounds of firecrackers came from the distance.
The car turned into an old street.
The paulownia trees on both sides were bare, their branches laden with icicles of snow.
“Driver, stop.”
Jiang Ci suddenly spoke up.
The driver slammed on the brakes. The car slid a short distance on the snowy ground and stopped beside a small convenience store that still had its lights on.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Wan, sitting in the passenger seat, turned around.
“Buying some New Year goods.”
Jiang Ci opened the car door and, without waiting for Lin Wan to say anything, jumped straight into the snow.
The snow underfoot made a crisp “crunch-crunch” sound.
Under the convenience store owner’s weird stare that seemed to say, “Where did this homeless person come from on New Year’s Eve?”, he took out his phone to scan the QR code.
“Two strings of ‘Big Earth Red’ firecrackers. The kind with the crispest bang.”
“And a case of pure milk, a case of apples… get those Red Fuji ones, the packaging that’s a bit redder.”
Five minutes later.
Jiang Ci stood in the snow again, holding two red plastic bags and with two strings of firecrackers tucked under his arm.
He refused to get back in the car.
Jiang Ci exhaled a white puff of air and pointed towards the somewhat dilapidated residential compound gate about two hundred meters ahead.
“I want to walk in by myself.”
The driver uncle looked out the car window at the man whose nose was red from the cold, holding gifts that felt like they were from another era.
“Alright.” The driver didn’t insist further.
Jiang Ci turned around.
His hands were strained by the heavy plastic bags. That weight made him feel grounded.
He started walking, taking deep, uneven steps through the snow towards that familiar Family Dormitory Building.
At the end of the street.
That old building with red brick walls stood silently in the wind and snow.
A window on the third floor emitted a dim, yellowish light.
Jiang Ci’s footsteps stopped about fifty meters from the main gate.
Nervousness grows as one approaches home.
On the Spring Festival Gala stage, he dared to perform “Coming Home” for the entire nation.
But when he truly reached his doorstep, looking at that lit window, he suddenly chickened out.
Afraid that Madam Chu Hong would see through his wretched state at a glance.
Even more afraid that when he pushed the door open, he would see that the empty chair really had nothing on it.
“Woof!”
A somewhat timid dog bark broke the silence.
A skinny, scrappy little mutt crawled out from behind some trash can.
It had been scared by the firecracker sounds, tail tucked between its legs, shivering in the snow.
But smelling the fragrance of apples from Jiang Ci’s bag, it mustered the courage to inch closer.
Jiang Ci looked down.
One man, one dog, staring wide-eyed at each other on this heavy-snowfall New Year’s Eve.
“You can’t go home either?”
Jiang Ci squatted down, the hem of his military overcoat dragging in the snow.
He placed the plastic bags on the ground and, not minding the dirt, reached out and rubbed the dirty little dog’s head.
The feel was rough, carrying body warmth.
The little mutt didn’t dodge. Instead, it nudged Jiang Ci’s palm with its nose, emitting a low “whimper.”
“Pathetic.”
Jiang Ci smiled self-deprecatingly, as if talking about the dog, and yet also about himself.
“Alright, stop nuzzling. I don’t have any food either.”
He stood up, brushing the dog hair off his hands.
His gaze returned to that lit window.
The light flickered slightly.
As if someone had walked to the window and was peering out through the wind and snow.
Jiang Ci took a sharp breath of cold air, his lungs stinging.
He picked up those two heavy bags of “New Year goods” again.
Tightly tucked the two strings of firecrackers under his arm.
Adjusted his breathing, forcibly suppressing the melancholy belonging to a Film Emperor on his face.
Replaced it with a carefree, heartless smile.
“Let’s go.”
He waved at the dog.
“Going home.”