Chapter 34 The Worst Moment (Revised)
Before the actual outbreak, some ominous signs had already appeared.
He Changyi's freight trainload of goods to Moscow was robbed.
It's not that cross-border freight transport by train is particularly safe; in fact, countless train cars have been stolen within Russia, which is hardly news anymore.
But getting a Mosk is a different story.
The train had just arrived in Mosk and was about to unload its cargo at the freight station when it was suddenly robbed, and all the goods on the train were stolen.
Faced with numerous shippers demanding compensation, the train station simply gave up the struggle and issued an accident certificate to each person.
As for compensation, we'll talk about it when the insurance company is willing to pay.
He Changyi held the piece of paper that looked like a piece of waste paper, feeling a bit of a headache.
The entire shipment was ordered by a new customer, but a robbery occurred, preventing timely delivery. According to the contract, she has to pay a large sum of money for the delayed delivery.
But losing money isn't the most troublesome thing.
The cooperation with this client is an important step for He Changyi to further expand the Ordos market. However, the trust between the two parties has not yet been established, and the first cooperation was interrupted by a sudden robbery. Will they be able to continue to cooperate smoothly afterward?
In order to retain this important customer, He Changyi was willing to pay a large sum of money in compensation to prevent the other party from thinking that she was selling the goods twice, using the guise of robbery to sell the goods to someone else who offered a higher price.
But the problems don't end there.
He Changyi’s newly established warehouse in the suburbs of Moscow was burned down.
Fortunately, the warehouse manager was not inside at the time; only the goods were destroyed, and no one was hurt.
"I was so close, so very close, that I was about to be burned to death!"
He Changyi had to comfort the frightened warehouse manager before he could even look at the extent of the damage to the goods in the warehouse.
The arsonist was very skilled; he ensured that there was no part of the warehouse that escaped the fire.
In other words, no goods escaped the fire; they were all reduced to ashes.
In fact, due to the sheer size of the fire, the ground was melted by the intense heat of the flames, and some parts of the land even looked like glass.
He Changyi gritted his teeth and wrote down this loss in the ledger.
And several penalties for breach of contract.
Although the goods were severely damaged, He Changyi's reputation did not collapse.
On the contrary, after receiving the liquidated damages stipulated in the contract, the clients trusted her even more and signed new trade contracts.
Some long-term clients directly refused the penalty for breach of contract, patting He Changyi on the shoulder and saying:
“My dear He, I believe you. We don’t need any penalty for breach of contract. As long as the next batch of goods arrives, that will be enough.”
The situation has been really bad lately, so He Changyi has stopped his original expansion plan and instead adopted a contraction strategy. Except for orders that have already been shipped, he will postpone delivery of other orders if possible, and negotiate to terminate the contracts for those that cannot be postponed.
Most customers expressed their understanding, but a small number of risk-takers insisted on delivering the goods on the date stipulated in the contract.
For the latter, He Changyi simply paid the penalty for breach of contract and forcibly terminated the contract to stop the loss.
Once the goods arrived in Moscow, He Changyi asked the customers to pick them up immediately. At the same time, he moved the goods from scattered, remote small warehouses to a larger, safer warehouse. Although storage and insurance costs rose sharply, at least in the short term, there would be no more warehouse fires.
He Changyi also quickly converted the funds in his local bank account into US dollars or gold, and after paying a hefty commission to the underground money changers, transferred them to his domestic account.
But sometimes, even when human effort reaches its limit, it is still no match for the inevitability of fate.
The situation deteriorated very suddenly.
Overnight, the city was filled with people in camouflage military uniforms, barricades were erected at intersections, and gunshots rang out from time to time.
Trucks were parked on the side of the road, distributing rifles and stun guns to ordinary people, regardless of whether they knew how to use them. It seemed that anyone considered "one of their own" naturally had the right to pick up a gun.
Because she had been busy until late the night before, He Changyi did not go back to Grandma Vitalie's house, but stayed in the office to rest.
When she woke up, the situation outside seemed to have returned to World War II overnight, or even earlier, the October Revolution.
In some ways, the two camps supporting the alliance and those supporting Oros were more like the "Red Army" and the "White Army" of today.
This was probably something the revolutionaries of seventy-six years ago could not have foreseen. Although there was no Tsar, their descendants split into two factions and once again turned their guns on each other.
He Changyi stood by the window; downstairs, everything was in chaos.
Countless people flocked to the central square, as well as the parliament building and government buildings located nearby.
Like a black river, turbulent and frenzied, it made the police lines blocking its way look incredibly fragile.
He Changyi noticed that the police officers standing at the front looked familiar; they were from the train station police station and appeared to have been urgently deployed to stop the crowd from heading to the city center.
But clearly, compared to this endless black river, the number of police officers was far too small, a hopeless and powerless act like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.
Police officers are legally allowed to possess firearms, but the general public possesses far more guns, regardless of whether they are legal or not.
When people are in a group, their judgment and self-control drop to zero, and morality and law become fragile threads that cannot control a mad bull.
Suddenly, gunshots rang out as police attempted to stop the crowd from advancing.
It is unknown which side fired the first shot, but it was like a signal that completely shattered the fragile peace that had been maintained.
He Changyi's heart tightened, and her gaze quickly swept across the police line, searching for a trace of gold.
Unfortunately, the police were wearing full protective gear, so unless the angle was just right, you couldn't see their faces at all.
Under the cover of uniforms, height, weight, and build are no longer obvious, reducing each person's individual characteristics to a minimum, like products from an assembly line.
The crowd was in such a chaotic state, like a herd of wildebeest being rammed by predators, disoriented and unaware of where they were going, only knowing to follow the person in front of them.
Until people started getting shot and falling to the ground.
He looked up at the sky, his eyes wide with disbelief, his ordinary face a mixture of fear, anger, and bewilderment, his police uniform stained crimson with blood.
The gunfire intensified, and more and more people fell, on both sides.
He Changyi began to panic.
She anxiously scanned the area again and again, then suddenly remembered something. She turned around, ran to the display shelf behind her desk, took down the binoculars that the customer had given her, and held them up to her eyes with trembling hands.
The crowd was in complete chaos, and it was impossible to tell who was hitting whom.
Someone was hiding in a corner, holding a gun out in their hand, leaning back as far as they could, and firing continuously without aiming until the magazine was empty.
Someone tried to imitate what they saw on TV, awkwardly raising a gun to fire, only to find that no bullets were fired. Just as he realized he needed to release the safety, a stray bullet from somewhere hit him.
Some people even ran to the barricade, wanting to engage in a battle of wits, but were knocked to the ground by the other side that had already occupied the barricade.
The police officers were caught in the middle of the two factions, and as an unpopular third party, everyone treated them as enemies.
As a result, the police suffered the most severe attacks.
Blood was everywhere, and there were wounded everywhere; screams could almost pierce through the glass.
He Changyi abruptly put down the binoculars, took a deep breath, and steadied his wildly beating heart.
She had just seen a policeman lying face down on the side of the street, his blood staining the bricks, and beneath his fallen hat was a head of dull blond hair.
"Let's go to the square! Let's go to the square!"
The crowd continued to move forward, leaving behind trails of blood as they marched on towards their goal without hesitation.
Gunshots continued to ring out intermittently.
He Changyi didn't care about any of that. She grabbed the first-aid kit that was kept in the office and ran downstairs without even putting on a coat, wearing only a black turtleneck sweater.
Seeing that she was about to leave, the old lady at the gate hurriedly stopped her.
"Don't go, it's dangerous!"
He Changyi had already pushed open the door and run out.
Faster, faster...
She pushed through the crowd and sprinted towards the location seen through the binoculars.
People had already begun treating the wounded, and ambulances were parked on the side of the street.
When someone helped up a wounded civilian lying on the ground, the first question they asked was:
"Whom do you support? Ye Qin or Makashov?"
The wounded man said he supported Makashov, and the rescuers immediately let go of him, letting him fall back to the ground.
"Go to hell! You damned enemy!"
Many old shoes were scattered on the ground, and He Changyi had to avoid these obstacles while running.
She stopped thinking about why there were so many shoes and why the owner was nowhere to be found—a terrible, ominous sign.
Once they found the policeman who was lying face down, He Changyi rushed to his side, put down the medical kit, and used both hands to flip him over.
An unfamiliar face.
Although his eyes were still open, his pupils had completely dilated, turning into inorganic voids.
He Changyi suddenly felt a little weak.
The exhaustion from running caught up with her a beat lately; her heart felt like it was going to jump into her throat, and she felt a spasmodic pain in her ribs.
She managed to raise her hand and gently closed the stranger's eyes.
Just then, voices could be heard from not far away.
"This is a policeman, not one of ours. Let him stay here!"
He Changyi looked in the direction of the sound and saw several Ego people throwing a uniformed, injured policeman on the ground and carrying their "own" wounded man into an ambulance.
The injured policeman fell heavily to the ground, blood gushing from his wounds.
He Changyi forced herself to stand up, picked up her medical kit, and quickly walked over, intending to give him first aid.
However, upon seeing the other person's face, He Changyi exclaimed in surprise:
"Chief Bullock?"
Director Brock lay on the ground, and after hearing He Changyi's voice, he struggled to open his eyes a crack.
"Ah, it's you, my Jong-kook friend..."
His voice was so weak, as if a gust of wind could blow it away.
He Changyi quickly took out dressings and gauze from the first-aid kit, wanting to stop the bleeding from Director Brock's wound first.
But when she tore open the police uniform and saw the condition of the wound, He Changyi's hand paused.
This is different from being stabbed or shot with a homemade bird gun; the power of a real gun far exceeds the imagination of ordinary people.
When a bullet penetrates a human body, it appears as a small hole from the front, but from the other side, it creates a terrifying and enormous cavity.
He Changyi was stunned for a moment, almost at a loss as to where to begin.
She held the gauze, trying to plug the gruesome, bloody hole, but suddenly, Chief Broke slowly raised his hand and patted her arm weakly.
"No need, I know it's hopeless..."
He Changyi pursed her lips and spoke with difficulty:
"It's just a small wound, you need to have confidence in yourself."
Director Bruck chuckled, his eyes already drooping.
"Thank you for staying with me until the very end..."
For some reason, He Changyi suddenly felt extremely sad.
She clearly disliked Chief Broke very much before. She usually just pretended to be friendly with him, but whenever she had the chance, she didn't want to look at this greedy police chief again, let alone have any interaction with him.
But since she didn't have any deep-seated hatred for Director Brock, it was still sad to watch someone she knew die right in front of her.
"I'm leaving..."
Director Blok's voice grew softer and softer, almost coming out of his throat, forcing He Changyi to lower his head to hear what he was saying.
She suppressed her bitterness and forced a smile:
“You are still young, it is not time for you to go into the embrace of the Father.”
"You cunning little liar..."
Director Brock had his eyes closed and his voice was so soft it was barely audible.
“I know those artifacts you brought are all fake…”
"A boiled head shouldn't look like that..."
He Changyi stared in surprise, while Director Brock's lips curled into a faint, smug smile.
"No one can fool me... unless I willingly allow myself to be fooled..."
Gradually, Director Blok's hand slipped to the ground, but his eyes suddenly opened, staring unfocused at the gray-blue sky.
"I saw it..."
“A red… flag…”
Chief Broke's eyes were open, but he was still dead.
He Changyi tilted his head back, took a few deep breaths, and swallowed the lump in his throat.
He Changyi laid Chief Brock's body upright on the side of the street and covered his face with a police cap.
She stood up, carrying her medical kit, and searched for Andrei among the wounded scattered on the ground.
Fortunately, she didn't find it; but unfortunately, just as she was helping another wounded policeman, a bullet suddenly fell from the sky and accurately blew the wounded man's head open.
He Changyi's face was splattered with blood. She instinctively rolled over and scrambled to the corner of the wall, using the wall as cover to dodge the next bullet.
Someone is hiding in an upstairs room and firing down!
He Changyi could hardly believe it; was this still the capital of a country in a modern, peaceful society?
Even in Stalingrad during World War II, there wouldn't be snipers in the city proper.
The guy on the high place was obviously very proud of his methods, calling out the names of all the non-humans still breathing on the street until only He Changyi, who was hiding in the corner, remained.
Gunshots rang out continuously, shattering the bricks and stones on the wall into flying fragments.
He Changyi's location was extremely disadvantageous for her; it was a dead end with only one exit. Moreover, the alley was short and shallow, meaning the gunman could easily hit the person hiding inside if he simply moved to another room.
Or he could continue teasing his prey as he is now, until the frightened prey walks right into his trap and into his sights.
He Changyi tried to calm himself down and observed all possible escape routes.
Unfortunately, unless she has superpowers or can climb walls like a gecko to escape, she can only wait for the gunman to "call her name".
Amid the gunfire, He Changyi couldn't help but think that her job as a middleman was comparable to that of a war correspondent. Once the Mosk incident was over, she might as well change careers, pick up her camera, and head straight to the Middle East battlefield, with Pulitzer as her target.
Just as He Changyi was finding joy in her misery, an empty magazine was suddenly thrown at her feet.
He Changyi looked in the direction the magazine had come from and was surprised to find that it was Andrei.
He stood in the doorway of a house, his hat nowhere to be seen, his blond hair mixed with sweat piled haphazardly on his head, and his uniform inside out; at first glance, he was not recognized as a policeman.
Andrei didn't speak, but simply gestured to He Changyi, signaling her to act according to his instructions.
Then, he stretched out one hand, and as the gun fired, he made the gestures of five, four, and three with his fingers.
He Changyi suddenly realized that Andrei was counting the bullets left in the gunman's magazine!
When the gunshots rang out again, Andrei pointed to one with his finger.
He Changyi pointed upwards with her finger, and Andrei nodded affirmatively at her.
Right after the last shot rang out, Andrei waved his hand forcefully, signaling that now was the time!
He Changyi took a deep breath and rushed out of the alley without hesitation, running towards Andrei's direction.
One step, two steps, three steps...
As He Changyi lunged toward Andrei, who had his arms outstretched, gunshots rang out again!
The bullet almost hit He Changyi's heel and hit the ground, just missing him. The next few shots rang out in quick succession, sounding like they were fired in a fit of rage.
Andrei caught He Changyi, put his arm around her waist, turned around and hid inside the house, closing the door behind him.
The room was quiet, the lights were off, and the light from outside shone through the glass, shutting out the smell of blood and gunpowder, as if the outside world were another world.
He Changyi gasped for breath, her life hanging by a thread. She almost went to report to the King of Hell, and she didn't know if the Black and White Impermanence would accept her international business trip if she died in Moscow.
It wasn't until she caught her breath that she realized she was still nestled in Andrei's arms.
The two were closer than ever before.
Andrei held He Changyi tightly, with unprecedented strength, and his hands trembled.
It was as if he had just woken up from a nightmare; he was still trapped in the terrifying illusions and couldn't escape.
He Changyi buried her face in his chest and heard his heart pounding wildly and erratically, as if it were about to break his ribs.
He carried the scent of gunpowder and blood, and so did she.
"It's alright now..."
He Changyi patted Andrei's back reassuringly, as if comforting him, or perhaps comforting himself.
"It's all over now."
Andrei pressed He Changyi even closer into his arms, as if only by being infinitely close and having a substantial presence in his arms could he confirm that she was still alive.
They all survived.
From this sudden turmoil.
When He Changyi returned to Grandma Vitalie's house, it was already evening.
The army entered Mosk and temporarily dispersed the crowds on the streets.
The gunfire paused briefly, and no one knew if it would resume.
Alexei was about to leave when He Changyi entered.
He looked like he had just come back from outside; his hair was disheveled, his clothes were torn in a large hole, and there was a bloodstain on his face, which made him look somewhat fierce.
Grandma Vitalie saw He Changyi and said loudly:
"Thank God, you're back! Oh my god, I couldn't get through to your office phone, thank goodness you're alright!"
Upon seeing He Changyi, Alexei's tense expression suddenly relaxed.
"You are still alive."
He Changyi didn't say anything, walked around him and sat on the recliner, letting out a long sigh.
"I'm alive."
Grandma Vitalie came over and hugged He Changyi tightly, her hands trembling as she stroked her.
"I saw it on the news and I almost thought something had happened to you. Today... today was such a terrible day."
He Changyi stopped talking and simply buried herself wearily in Grandma Vitalie's warm embrace.
She was too tired.
Alexei, however, keenly noticed the bloodstains on He Changyi's hands.
"Is your hand... injured?"
He Changyi looked at his hands, which still bore traces of the wounded soldiers' blood.
She shook her head and said calmly:
"It's not my blood."
She stopped explaining, because whenever she opened her mouth, she would see pairs of empty pupils before her eyes.
Alexei seemed to understand something and stopped asking questions, simply bringing her a cup of hot milk with honey.
"Drinking this will help you get a good night's sleep."
He Changyi glanced at Alexei, then quietly downed his drink.
However, the honey and hot milk did not bring He Changyi a good dream.
In the middle of the night, she suddenly woke up in bed covered in sweat, panting and bewildered.
Blood.
Blood that stretches to the horizon.
And those eyes, they were all watching her.
There was a gentle knock on the bedroom door, and the next moment, Alexei, wearing a bathrobe, silently walked in.
He arrived uninvited and sat down by He Changyi's bedside without permission.
Despite being an unwelcome guest, they brought an unprecedented sense of security.
"Sleep well, I'll be here."
Alexei said in a low voice.
He paused, then hesitantly reached out a hand and brushed the sweaty hair from He Changyi's forehead back.
By the moonlight streaming through the window, He Changyi looked at him, and after a long silence, said:
How did you spend it?
She didn't say what she wanted to get through, but Alexei strangely understood what He Changyi really wanted to ask.
"I didn't get through it."
He said in a low voice.
“I stayed there.”
At this moment, Alexei looked like a piece of porcelain that had been broken and then barely pieced back together, and He Changyi couldn't help but reach out to him.
Alexei held her hand firmly, then cupped it in his palm, brought it to his lips, and gently kissed it.
It was a kiss with a strong sense of reassurance.
"But you don't have to."
Alexei said, "Sleep well, don't worry, I'll always be here."
He Changyi lowered her eyes, and after a moment, she moved over to make room for one person to lie down.
Alexei looked at her.
He Changyi didn't speak, and neither did he.
After an unknown amount of time, He Changyi became drowsy, but she dared not actually fall asleep, fearing that blood and those gray eyes would reappear in her dreams.
The bed suddenly sank, followed by a warm sensation beside me.
Alexei lay down fully clothed and reached out to pull He Changyi, along with the blanket, into his arms.
"Go to sleep."
And so He Changyi really did fall asleep.
This time, there was no blood in her dream.
However, temporary warmth cannot solve real problems.
People always have to face the world outside their blankets.
When He Changyi woke up again, Mosk had not become better than the day before; on the contrary, it had become worse.
Tanks drove onto the streets, causing deep collapses in roads originally designed only for cars.
Everything was in chaos; there were people in military uniforms everywhere, as well as so-called "volunteers" carrying guns.
The atmosphere in this city is getting worse every day; there seems to be no end in sight, only an endless descent.
No one knows where it will eventually fall.
In the television broadcast, tank cannons were pointed at the government building, and tracer rounds tore through the night sky.
Flames, flames everywhere.
General Makashov, wearing a black beret, shouted to the crowd: "No more mayors, no more gentlemen, and no more hooligans!"
Another general, speaking from the government building, called out: "Pilots! Brothers! Get your planes up! Bomb the Kremlin! There are bandits there!"
The situation is getting increasingly serious.
The protesters stormed into the center of the television station; their faces appeared briefly on screen before the television signal was abruptly cut off.
Grandma Vitalie was crying, she was so sad, and her tears slid down her wrinkled face.
"Why has our country become like this? What did we do wrong? God, why are we being punished like this?"
Alexei, with a stern face, said to He Changyi:
You can't stay here.
You must leave immediately.
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Author's Note: *Quoted from historical sources
Just one more chapter to finish this plot point, then we'll move on to the next chapter~
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