Wasteland Survival Code

Chapter 510 Cigars and inferior cigarettes

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

Cheng Yanqiu sat on the sofa made of the top layer of cowhide imported from Italy, silently staring at the table in front of him - this seat used to belong to his father, but now it was his turn to sit here.

The only difference is that outside this villa, there are thousands of soldiers wearing uniforms of the Cheng family's private army surrounding the villa. At every window and door of the villa, there are far more than one sniper aiming their scopes. The crosshair in is locked on it.

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

"Death?" The ghost face suddenly grinned, which made his already ferocious face even more distorted, making it look extraordinarily eerie in the shadows.

"You also know that my job, every mission, may not come back. If there are too many times, I will become numb."

A light brown cigar was held between Ghost Face's fingers, the end of the cigar was flickering, and an intoxicating smell permeated the room.

Cheng Yanqiu's father is an avid cigar lover, and he specially opened up a room in this villa to store the expensive cigars he purchased from various famous producing places in the world, but after Cheng Su entered the villa, In order to win people's hearts, he took most of those expensive cigars as gifts, and the inventory that was originally full of a room is now less than one-third left.

In the hands of Ghost Face is a surviving Padron 1926 series No. 90. This is an antique product produced in 2016. It is the founder of Padron Cigars José Orlando Padron to celebrate his life. A commemorative product that was withdrawn after No.90.

This Padron 1926NO.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 used a Just the usual cheap lighter to light it.

If a person who loves cigars sees this scene, he will definitely feel sad and think that Ghost Face is tyrannizing Tianzhen. This kind of high-end goods should be lit with special long-handled matches instead of the strong smell of gasoline in the flames. Windproof lighter.

However, Ghost Face doesn't care, and neither does Cheng Yanqiu.

Their lives may only have the last few hours left, and Ghost Face just wants to experience it. This kind of thing, which is priced enough to buy a boutique sniper rifle, is different from the cheap cigarettes that are often smoked in daily life.

"It seems that this time, this villa is probably our cemetery." Cheng Yanqiu said in a low voice, he never believed in the reinforcements from the beginning, and the most likely source of the memory card was Cheng Suzhi hand.

As long as Cheng Yanqiu is held steady, Cheng Yanqiu will have no bargaining chips in his hand after shelter No. 909 is evacuated.

As for the hundreds of thousands of ordinary residents in the residential area who had no time to evacuate, in Cheng Su's eyes, they were just things that could be discarded at will.

"It should be our cemetery, not your cemetery." Ghost Face said, smoking a cigar.

"That's right. If he could capture me alive, Cheng Su probably wouldn't beat me to death right here. I still have a lot of value for him to use." Cheng Yanqiu smiled self-deprecatingly.

Man is not as good as God, this may be the arrangement of fate.

For some reason, Cheng Yanqiu suddenly remembered these two lines that had a high rate of appearance in various film and television and literary works in the old era.

"As long as there is a slight chance to survive, you should not give up, even if you are dying." Guimian suddenly pointed to his half face like a ghost, and extinguished the cigar in his hand into the ashtray at the corner of the table .

"Hey, a rough person like me is still not suitable for this thing, but I miss the inferior hand-rolled cigarettes."

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

"Smoke? There's plenty of cigars in the storage room—"

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

"And the last two."

"Give me one."

The ghost face glanced at Cheng Yanqiu, then took out a crushed cardboard 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 deep drag.

Very choking, the spicy taste of inferior tobacco reverberates in the throat and respiratory tract, as if inhaling a mouthful of heated chili noodles-this inferior cigarette with a small amount of military stimulant is part of this era, and bullets, Radiation, like death, is as synonymous with this post-destruction era.

Ghost Mian also lit the last cigarette, and the mellow aroma of cigars that permeated the room was washed away by the smell of inferior cigarettes in an instant.

"Actually, I've always been very strange," Guimian took a strong puff, and the short cigarette immediately shortened by nearly one-third of its length, "You, a rich young master of the Cheng family, why don't you like it?" Cigars are something that upper-class people should smoke, but they like this kind of thing?”

"Because I grew up in this kind of environment—" Cheng Yanqiu said slowly, his eyes were hidden behind the rising smoke, which made the ghost face not very clear.

"Perhaps in the eyes of outsiders, I am a child of an aristocratic family who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth and lived in a good environment since he was a child. The only young master of the Cheng family's head and the future heir of the Cheng's consortium."

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

"Except for my parents, no one is really happy for my birth. My appearance means that they and their nephews will lose something, and these things are what they have worked so hard to get."

"For example, the position of the head of the family?" Guimian tilted his head, this usually stern military king, now he is like a neighbor's big brother, quietly leaning his back against the mahogany bookshelf, listening to Cheng Yanqiu's story.

"One of them. I learned to observe words and expressions when I was very young. I can detect the true thoughts in a person's heart from the subtle changes in his face, but it is precisely because of this that there is almost no happiness in my childhood."

"It's bloody, like those serial dramas that aired at eight o'clock in the evening before the war." The ghost face shrugged.

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

Cheng Yanqiu was talking while smoking.

"So at the age of 12, I voluntarily asked to leave the family. Under the arrangement of my father, I set off for a mining company in Nepal, and prepared to start a three-year experience."

　Thank you book friend [Yebai a] for your reward and support
　　
　
(End of this chapter)