“Alcohol” is indeed a wonderful thing.
The initially subdued atmosphere of the “welcoming party” gradually warmed up after everyone had downed a few bottles of beer.
Many began clinking their bottles with others and introducing themselves.
In the days to come, they would become comrades bound by life and death.
“Qiao Jiajin,” Qi Xia asked while munching on peanuts, “what’s the reason you absolutely have to get out?”
“I don’t know,” Qiao Jiajin replied, gazing at the lively crowd in the distance, his voice slow and deliberate. “Repaying a debt? Or revenge? I’m not sure.”
He took a heavy swig of beer, his expression eerily calm.
The usually jovial Qiao Jiajin seemed like a completely different person now.
“What about you, Han Yimo?” Qi Xia turned to Han Yimo.
“I want to finish my novel,” Han Yimo answered. “I’m just one chapter away from ending this story. Even if I have to die, I want to complete it first.”
“That’s too extreme,” Qi Xia shook his head. “Is your novel more important than your life?”
“Not exactly,” Han Yimo gave a bitter smile. “Who actually wants to die? But the ‘earthquake’ is coming—I’m bound to die anyway. So why didn’t I just publish that chapter instead of proofreading it myself…?”
Qi Xia sighed helplessly.
Han Yimo wasn’t talking about a “reason to leave”—it sounded more like a “dying wish.”
Just then, a dark-skinned, slender girl and a man in a suit walked over, bottles in hand, shoulder to shoulder.
Qi Xia recognized them.
They had attended Granny Tong’s class.
“Hey, let’s get to know each other,” the dark-skinned girl said with a smile. “Are you all from the same room?”
“Yes,” Lin Qin nodded beside them. “Are you two as well?”
“Mm, I’m Li Xiangling,” the girl extended her hand toward Lin Qin.
Lin Qin shook it, noticing the girl’s calloused palms.
“I’m Zhong Zhen,” the suited man nodded at the group.
Qi Xia eyed them skeptically. “Did the rest of your teammates die?”
“No,” Li Xiangling shook her head. “Five of us survived, but the other three didn’t want to come to ‘Paradise Port.’ Only the two of us made it here.”
“I’m Qiao Jiajin,” Qiao Jiajin raised his bottle, clinking it against Zhong Zhen’s. “Call me Ajin.”
“Got it, brother.”
The two began chatting with Lin Qin, Qiao Jiajin, and Han Yimo.
Turns out, their teammates had been three criminals.
From the moment they arrived in the city, those three had been scouring for knives to arm themselves. Zhong Zhen and Li Xiangling, realizing they weren’t cut from the same cloth, had planned to go their separate ways when they ran into Zhang Shan, who persuaded them to come to “Paradise Port.”
After a brief discussion, the two decided to check it out.
“All three were criminals?” Qi Xia frowned.
“Yeah… Two were ex-cons, and one was straight out of prison,” Li Xiangling shuddered slightly. “It was terrifying.”
Qi Xia knew exactly who they were talking about, but another question gnawed at him.
If everyone here was meant to “atone,” were Ah Mu, Baldy, and Goldie truly remorseful for their actions?
Like Granny Tong said, everyone here was guilty—yet Qi Xia had seen plenty who showed no sign of repentance.
For those three, this place didn’t feel like a space for “atonement.” It was more like a playground for unchecked freedom.
Just then, Yun Yao walked over. Noticing Qi Xia still eating peanuts, she raised an eyebrow.
“Qi Xia, why aren’t you drinking?”
“I need to stay sober,” he replied. “You go ahead.”
“Why make it so hard on yourself?” Yun Yao sat beside him, cracking open a bottle for him. “We’re already in a place where death is certain—what’s left to be cautious about?”
Qi Xia couldn’t deny her logic, but old habits died hard.
“I’ll pass. I’ll stick to peanuts.”
With that, he resumed shelling them.
Yun Yao found him odd. The pile of peanut shells in front of him was practically a small mountain—just how much did this guy love peanuts?
“Fine, suit yourself,” she huffed, then turned to Lin Qin. “Hey, what do you do?”
“I’m a psychological counselor,” Lin Qin smiled.
“Wow!” Yun Yao brightened, clinking her bottle against Lin Qin’s. “Our team used to have a professional psychological consultant too.”
“Team?” Lin Qin paused. “So you’re…?”
“We were a girl group called ‘Whimsy,'” Yun Yao grinned. “We debuted in 2027. Ever heard of us? What year are you from?”
Lin Qin hesitated awkwardly. “N-no, I haven’t… I’m from a bit later…”
Qi Xia shook his head, secondhand embarrassment creeping in.
Lin Qin was from 2068. By the time she’d been old enough to follow celebrities, Yun Yao would’ve long retired.
But Yun Yao didn’t seem to care, launching into an enthusiastic one-sided conversation—from daily routines to philosophical musings. Fortunately, Lin Qin was sharp enough to keep up with any topic.
Before long, someone from “Paradise Port” handed Yun Yao a few batteries.
Delighted, she hurried to an old radio, popped them in, and pressed play. Turning back, she announced to the crowd: “Everyone! Tonight’s ‘welcoming party’ brought in new faces, and I really like them! So I’m in a great mood—how about a song?”
The crowd cheered and clapped.
Qiao Jiajin, Han Yimo, Zhong Zhen, Li Xiangling, and Dr. Zhao quickly grabbed prime seats.
As the radio crackled to life with a nostalgic melody, Yun Yao confidently began singing.
With her sweet voice and polished stage presence, she seemed less like an idol and more like a seasoned performer.
The song was a familiar one—many in the room joined in.
What started as a solo soon became a chorus.
Qiao Jiajin sang the loudest.
*”Though the road is long, I’ll walk with you, unweary.”*
*”Side by side, mile after mile.”*
*”Cross each mountain, only to find another waiting.”*
*”Push the horizon, keep dreams forever in sight.”*
It was Teresa Teng’s 1984 hit, *”The Long and Winding Road.”* Somehow, it fit eerily well here.
Watching the others sing, Qi Xia found himself momentarily lost in the moment, forgetting where he was.
Only he and Lin Qin didn’t know the lyrics, sitting in the corner like outsiders.
“Qi Xia,” Lin Qin called. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His hands stilled mid-shell. “What is it?”
“I’m an ‘Extremist’ wandering the Land of Finality. My goal is to purge ‘Paradise Port.'”
She smiled brightly, taking a sip of beer as the distant voices sang on.
*”Let laughter drown out sorrow.”*
*”Joy or pain.”*
*”Each day brings something new.”*
The crowd’s voices swelled, full of joy and abandon.
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