A thick layer of fog condensed on the windshield, creating a natural frosted glass effect.
Xi Xi turned on the windshield wipers and tapped the central control screen to bring up the All-View Guardian 360-degree surround view monitoring system.
"The snow has actually lessened a bit?!" Xi Xi couldn't help but exclaim, looking at her father. The high-definition camera pierced through the wind and snow, taking in the surroundings.
“It’s sometimes strong, sometimes weak, but it’s never stopped.” Xi Zhongcang limped over, leaning on his crutches. His right leg was a little better, and he could now move slowly using the vehicle’s cabin. “It was at its worst around three in the morning, with the blizzard making the windows creak!”
“However, there’s something quite strange…” Xi Zhongcang’s expression hardened as he recalled the scene from last night, “When the blizzard was at its worst, I could faintly hear the sound of an engine starting up.”
The sound was very faint, almost insignificant amidst the clamor of the wind and snow pounding against the car windows.
Xi Zhongcang, who was keeping watch in secret, thought it was just a passing vehicle, but when Aura, who was crouching on the central control screen, suddenly let out two "howls," his alarm went off immediately.
However, when Xi's father held his breath and limped to the center console screen, everything seemed to return to normal. Aura even leisurely licked its paws, to the point that Xi's father wondered if he was being too sensitive.
Upon hearing this, Xi Xi, with a slight sense of doubt, picked up the drowsy kitten and began communicating with Aura using the synesthetic chain ring. Then, with a serious expression, she opened the surveillance footage.
She repeatedly dragged the play bar, and the screen clearly showed that at 3:17 a.m., five snowmobiles sped past the camera like ghosts, their tails painted red. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be Japanese katakana characters!
Xi Zhongcang, standing to the side, gasped: "Could they be from the Yamato Guard?"
In the video, a motorcycle traces a smooth arc on the ice, the rider is wrapped in a cloak made of a whole bear skin, and the icicles dragged by the steel cable gleam blue in the moonlight.
These motorcycle tires are as wide as their low-pressure snow tires!
Xi Xi continued dragging the play bar, and at 3:42 a.m., the five motorcycles turned back!
"It seems they're scouting ahead," said Mr. Xi, pointing thoughtfully to the edge of the screen.
The lead motorcycle stumbled within the surveillance camera's view and suddenly braked hard. The following motorcycles immediately swerved to avoid the ice crack danger zone.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Xi Xi pressed the pause button again and zoomed in on the supplies in the other party's truck bed—a long and sturdy wooden stick and a steaming copper kettle.
"This is... a weapon?" Xi Xi was a little confused. An organization that could afford such luxurious motorcycles would use wooden sticks as weapons?
Xi Zhongcang was silent for a moment, then shook his head: "I don't think so." He suddenly gestured on the screen: "It's probably used to measure the thickness of the ice layer."
“Experienced people can judge the thickness of the ice layer just by sound and touch.” Xi Zhongcang had a new understanding of the true strength of this guard team, and felt uneasy.
Xi Xi propped her head up and watched the ten-minute surveillance video over and over again with a hint of doubt, gradually falling into deep thought.
Xi Zhongcang then began analyzing the motorcycle squad's equipment in the surveillance footage. Before he could finish speaking, dark clouds suddenly surged up on the horizon. A gale-force wind whipped up snowflakes that began to pelt the car windows, instantly shattering the brief calm into chaos.
...
Thirty miles away, the woman wrapped her mink cloak tighter around herself, her long, curly hair cascading down her chest. Icicles hanging from the roof of the carriage, like inverted swords, cast crisscrossing spots of light on her pale face.
"Where's Miyano?" She twirled the amber cigarette holder between her fingers, her Japanese accent thick and foreign, "Call him over."
The Asian woman standing nearby paused for a moment, then seemed to understand what she was saying, put down the broom, and got out of the car.
A convoy of cars painted red was resting by the roadside, with one cold-weather tent after another, creating a mixed scene of people inside and out.
The Asian woman moved among the many tents, and her nose quickly turned red from the cold.
The old woman paused for a moment, her eyes fixed on several rather impressive-looking luxury tents.
"Go away, get out of my way!" one of the men in the tent impatiently shooed him out.
The man, wearing a barak hat, muttered curses as he poured half a bag of cornmeal into a tin bucket, mixed it with snow water, and cooked it into a paste.
The old woman seemed to know nothing about the island language, but by looking at the red-hot pebbles at the bottom of the bucket, she knew that the man was just a cook who started a fire and cooked food. Without looking back, she lifted the tent flap and went out.
She remembered the man named Miyano. He was a Japanese man fluent in Chinese and worked as a meteorologist. He was assigned a snowmobile by his organization based on his own abilities, and everyone treated him with great respect.
“If things continue like this, we'll be spending more than we earn. How can we possibly feed so many people? You know, this is a great opportunity…”
"That requires orders from above; acting on one's own is a capital offense! In any case... let's reduce the expenses of the lowest level first."
"You're so rigid..."
The old woman lifted the curtain and entered, interrupting the conversation inside the tent. One of the men, with a buzz cut, immediately felt a surge of murderous intent, his eyes flashing with an unyielding ferocity.
Another short-haired man wearing glasses took a sip of tea and said softly, "Don't be so nervous, Iron Head. She's Chinese, she can't understand Japanese."
Then he gave the old woman a warm smile and asked, "Aunt Luo, what brings you here? Please have a seat."
The old woman, called "Aunt Luo," clearly received very little treatment within the organization. She was immediately filled with gratitude towards the Japanese man before her. She waved her hand and said with a smile, "What could possibly be wrong with me? You're joking again, Mr. Miyano! It's the Second Madam who's looking for you!"
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