Wasteland Code Survival

The main residence of the Cheng family, the central villa.

Cheng Yanqiu sat on the sand made of first-layer cowhide imported from Italy, staring silently at the table in front of him-this position once belonged to his father, but now it is his turn to sit here.

The only difference is that outside this villa, thousands of soldiers in Cheng's private army uniforms surround the villa. In every window and doorway of the villa, there is more than one sniper aiming at the scope. The crosshair in is locked on it.

"Have you... ever imagined your own death?" Cheng Yanqiu suddenly lowered his head, and said to the ghost face standing behind the table, peeping through the gap in the curtain.

"Death?" Guimian grinned suddenly, which made his already hideous face even more distorted, and it looked particularly horrible in the shadows.

"You also know that my work, every task, may not come back, the more the frequency, I will be numb."

A light brown cigar was sandwiched between Guimian's fingers, and the end of the cigar was shining brightly, and a fascinating smell filled the room.

Cheng Yanqiu’s father was an avid cigar lover. He opened a special room in this villa to store the precious cigars he had bought from various well-known sources in the world, but after Cheng Su entered the villa, In order to win the hearts of the people, most of those expensive cigars were used as gifts by him, and now there are only less than one-third of the inventory that was full of a room.

What Guimian holds is a surviving Padron 1926 series No. 9o. This is an antique produced in 2o16. It is the founder of Padron Cigar Jose? Orlando? Padron to celebrate his passing. A commemorative product that I withdrew from the 90th year of my life.

This Padron 1926 No. 90 has been stored in a storage cabinet that can maintain a constant temperature and humidity. Until half an hour ago, Ghost Face took it out of it, cut its front end flat with a military dagger, and then again. A cheap lighter that could only be ignited.

If someone who loves cigars sees this scene, he will definitely think that the ghost face is violent Tianzhen. This kind of high-end goods should be lit with a special long-handled match, not the flame with a strong gasoline smell. Windproof lighter.

However, Guimian didn't care, nor did Cheng Yanqiu.

Their lives are probably only the last few hours left, and the ghost face just wants to experience it. This kind of price is enough to buy a boutique sniper rifle. What is the difference between the cheap cigarettes that are often smoked on weekdays.

"It seems that this time, this villa is probably our cemetery." Cheng Yanqiu whispered. He hadn't believed in reinforcements or something from the beginning. The most likely origin of the memory card is from Cheng Suzhi. hand.

As long as Cheng Yanqiu is held steady, after refuge 9o9 is emptied, Cheng Yanqiu will have no bargaining chips in his hands.

As for the hundreds of thousands of ordinary residents in residential areas who were too late to evacuate, in Cheng Su's eyes, they were just things that could be abandoned at will.

"It should be our cemetery, not your cemetery." Ghost face smoked a cigar and said.

"That's right, if you can catch me alive, Cheng Su should not directly kill me here. I still have a lot of value for him." Cheng Yanqiu smiled somewhat self-deprecatingly.

People are not as good as heaven, this may be the arrangement of fate.

I don't know why, Cheng Yanqiu suddenly remembered these two lines, which appeared frequently in various film and literary works of the old age.

"As long as there is a chance to survive, you shouldn't give up, even if it's lingering." Guimian pointed to half of his face like a ghost, and squeezed the cigar in his hand into the ashtray at the corner of the table. .

"Well, a rough person like me is still not suitable for this stuff, but some miss the inferior hand-rolled cigarette."

"Is there any smoke left?" Cheng Yanqiu suddenly raised his head and looked at the ghost face.

"Smoke? There are still many cigars in the storeroom—"

"I'm talking about the inferior hand-rolled cigarettes you mentioned." Cheng Yanqiu said.

"There are the last two."

"Give me one."

Guimian glanced at Cheng Yanqiu, and then fumbled out a squashed paper box from his jacket pocket, took out two crumpled cigarettes from it, and threw one to Cheng Yanqiu.

Cheng Yanqiu took the cigarette, lit it, and took a hard sip.

It’s very choking. The pungent taste of inferior tobacco reverberates in the throat and respiratory tract, as if inhaling a mouthful of hot chili noodles-this inferior cigarette with a trace of military stimulants is part of this era, and bullets, Radiation, like death, is synonymous with this era after annihilation.

The ghost face also lit the last cigarette, and the peculiar mellow aroma of the cigar that originally permeated the room was instantly washed away by the smell of the inferior cigarette.

"Actually, I have always been very strange," Guimian took a hard sip, and the short cigarette immediately shortened its length by nearly a third. "You are a rich young master of the Cheng family, why don't you like it? Cigars should be smoked by high-class people, but you like this stuff?"

"Because I grew up in this kind of environment--" Cheng Yanqiu said slowly, his eyes hidden behind the rising smoke, making the ghost face not very real.

"Perhaps in the eyes of outsiders, I am a child of a family who was born with a golden spoon and lived in a privileged environment since childhood, the only young master of the Cheng family, and the future heir of the Cheng consortium."

"But what outsiders don’t know is that since I can remember, the whole world, except for my parents, is full of hostility towards me. Those who have the same blood flowing in their veins as mine, they smiled and stretched out their hands. , Trying to pick me up, but when I stretched out their pupils, I saw the disgust hidden behind the smile."

"Except for my parents, no one really feels joy for my birth. My appearance means that they and their nephews will lose something, but these things are what they tried to get."

"For example, the position of the Patriarch?" The ghost face tilted his head, the usual cold soldier king, now like the big brother of a neighbor, quietly leaning against the mahogany bookshelf, listening to Cheng Yanqiu's words.

"One of them. I learned to observe words and colors when I was very young, and I can detect the true thoughts of a person from the subtle changes in a person's face, but because of this, there was almost no joy in my childhood."

"It's really bloody, it's like those series that aired at 8 o'clock late before the war." Guimian shrugged.

"Later I learned that almost every child born in a big family is the same. In the eyes of outsiders, when we are born, we have a pure gold spoon in our mouth, but only we know the edge of this spoon. How sharp is it, if you are not careful, you will cut your mouth and tongue with blood."

Cheng Yanqiu was talking while smoking a cigarette.

"So at the age of twelve, I voluntarily asked to leave the family, and under the arrangement of my father, I set off for a mineral company in Nepal where I was preparing to start the three-year experience."...

First set a small goal, such as 1 second to remember: Reading website of Shukeju mobile version: