Chapter 92: The Crack

Qi Xia walked out of the lottery center holding a check and headed straight for the taxi.

“Wow, that was quick, young man,” the driver remarked, standing outside the car smoking a cigarette. The deep blue vehicle beside him stood out starkly against the local mint-colored cars.

Qi Xia didn’t respond, pulling open the door and sliding into the backseat.

“So… are we heading back now?” the driver asked.

“Yeah,” Qi Xia nodded, but for safety’s sake, he chose to sit in the back this time.

“Got it.” The driver crushed his cigarette underfoot and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Hey, kid, don’t you want to hang around Jinan for a bit? I’ve got an old buddy here. If you’re not in a hurry—”

“I’m in a hurry,” Qi Xia cut in. “Let’s go.”

“Oh…” The driver nodded awkwardly.

Qi Xia recalled the last time he had wasted half a day in Jinan withdrawing money from the bank, only to return home with a large bag of cash.

His original intention had been to surprise Yu Nian’an, but this time, he had to skip all those formalities.

Now, he needed to get home as quickly as possible and take Yu Nian’an to an open, safe location.

With that thought, he pulled out his phone to call her, wanting her to pack a few clothes in advance so they could stay elsewhere in the coming days.

He opened his contacts, scrolled to the very first entry—the one labeled simply “A”—and dialed.

He had deliberately given Yu Nian’an that contact name so her number would always stay at the top of his list.

But after more than ten seconds, the call still hadn’t been answered.

“What’s going on…?” Qi Xia frowned. Yu Nian’an was never without her phone—why wasn’t she picking up?

He hung up and tried again, several times, but still got no response. A sliver of unease crept into his mind.

Glancing at the time—already 4 p.m.—he spoke up.

“Driver, if you can get me back to Qingdao by 7:30, I’ll give you an extra 500 yuan.”

“Seriously?” The driver glanced at Qi Xia in the rearview mirror, then checked his watch.

Three and a half hours. Three hundred and fifty kilometers.

It was tight, but not impossible for an experienced driver. If he kept the speed at 120 km/h on the highway, they’d just make it.

Opportunities to earn 2,500 yuan in a single day were rare, and the driver was clearly skeptical.

“I’m not lying,” Qi Xia said flatly. “Just drive safely.”

The driver had a hunch about what was going on. Normally, who would take a taxi to another city?

Taxis were expensive, but the only real advantage was that, unlike trains or bullet trains, they didn’t require ID for booking.

Which meant this young man had come to Jinan discreetly, not wanting anyone to know.

And if he was here to claim a lottery prize…

Only winnings over a million yuan required collection at the provincial lottery center. Maybe his actual prize was even higher.

The driver sighed inwardly.

They said the odds of winning the lottery were lower than getting struck by lightning. Life was unfair—this young man had hit the jackpot, while he, already middle-aged, was still stuck doing manual labor.

From the backseat, Qi Xia caught the driver’s conflicted expression in the rearview mirror and smirked slightly.

Yeah, for an ordinary person, having a lottery winner sitting behind you would make anyone’s mind wander.

*Too bad you’re all bark and no bite,* Qi Xia thought.

This driver was one he’d “carefully selected” from a group outside a hotel earlier. While the others were waiting for fares, this burly man had tried cutting in line—only to be scolded into submission by a wiry fellow driver.

That moment had told Qi Xia everything he needed to know.

Everyone wanted money, but this guy was spineless.

Someone like that would never dare to *kill for it*.

The driver’s expression flickered through a range of emotions before he finally sighed and focused on the road ahead.

Qi Xia leaned back and tried calling Yu Nian’an again. Still no answer.

In the quiet of the car, his mind drifted back to what had happened in *the Endgame*.

It had all felt *too* real—nothing like a dream.

He touched his left shoulder. There was no wound now, but he remembered everything vividly.

Han Yimo, Qiao Jiajin, Tian Tian, Officer Li, Zhang Shan, Old Lü—they had all died there. *He* had died too, yet here he was, back in his old life.

Did that mean the others had also returned to theirs?

Maybe it had all just been some twisted prank.

As dusk fell, the highway’s guardrail lights flickered on one by one.

He’d only spent three days in that hellhole, but it felt like an eternity since he’d last seen city lights at night.

The rhythmic blur of passing streetlights was oddly soothing.

The driver was clearly determined to earn that extra 500 yuan—he’d been pushing the speed limit since hitting the highway.

Like everyone else in the world, he was just trying to scrape by.

Qi Xia decided then that even if they were late, he’d still give the man the money.

The driver made a few more attempts at small talk, but eventually gave up when it became clear Qi Xia wasn’t interested. Instead, he turned on the radio to fill the silence.

*”You’re listening to 89.7 Traffic Radio.”*

The smooth, deep voice was a staple of taxi drivers everywhere.

*”The time is now 7 p.m. Beijing time. Let’s take a look at some messages from our online platform.”*

There was an unusually long pause—close to ten seconds—before the host spoke again, an absolute blunder in live broadcasting.

“Pfft!” The driver scoffed. “Kid, can you believe this? Did these hosts buy their jobs or what?”

Qi Xia frowned. Something felt off.

Radio hosts were trained to handle pressure. Even if most online comments were useless, they’d still pick out key details immediately. Why the long silence?

*”Uh… our online platform is receiving some unusual messages,”* the host finally said, his tone odd. *”Dozens of reports are coming in about a… strange fissure appearing in the sky above the Qingdao exit on the Qingyin Highway. We’re contacting traffic police to confirm whether this is related to signage or other structures. Please proceed with caution.”*