The first glance at the Lüliang Mountains was a sight full of shattered rocks. Two-faced, who was used to driving in Tianjin, got a taste of how tough the Lüliang Mountains could be. On one side was a mountain wall, on the other a cliff, with barely any slope for buffer. National Highway 209 was covered in snow, looking like a giant white snake twisting its way up the mountain, with seven or eight sharp elbow-like bends winding upward.

There were no streetlights on the mountain road, and ahead was often a sheer drop into a deep valley. Only when you got close would you realize the road took a sharp turn. By now, it was completely dark, and that aroma of braised beef had once again drifted into Two-faced’s nose. He couldn’t help but mutter, “How much braised beef did you guys actually bring? The smell is so strong!”

“Braised beef? What braised beef?” Gray-haired glanced at Two-faced, looking very surprised. “We didn’t bring any braised beef.”

Two-faced was taken aback and sniffed. The aroma of braised beef was thick inside the Corolla. “You didn’t? Can’t you smell it?”

“No!” Gray-haired sniffed a few times, then turned to the back, “Do you guys smell anything?”

The woman in the back seat said nothing. The two men both shook their heads. The short one said, “No, I don’t smell anything.”

Gray-haired said, “Brother, you must be hungry, right? I’ve got some bread with sausage here, want a bite to tide you over? We’ll have a drink when we get home.”

“I am hungry, but I can’t eat. This road is too tough. Driving on an empty stomach keeps you alert; if you’re full, it’s easy to get drowsy!” Two-faced was telling the truth.

Five people in a car, and only one could smell it. If the other four weren’t pretending, then there must be something wrong with his own nose! Two-faced was puzzled, but didn’t have time to think more about it.

Chapter 3: Night of Terror (3)

The mountain road was getting harder and harder to drive. Two-faced widened his eyes in the darkness, trying hard to make out the road, carefully driving his taxi. Darkness, snow, and mountain roads—the three major “high-risk tigers” of driving—all came together. Who would dare to speed! The car stayed below 50 kilometers per hour the whole time. At this rate, the 200-kilometer journey would take at least four or five hours. Once the tire treads were packed with snow, the wheels became smooth and round, with less and less grip. A few turns and accelerations, and the rear of the car fishtailed slightly each time. Everyone in the car was sweating nervously. If the fishtail got worse, the lucky outcome would be crashing into the mountain wall with car damage and injuries; the unlucky outcome would be the car and everyone in it flying off the cliff, ending in total destruction.

Two-faced’s heart was in his throat. To avoid sudden braking, he slowed down even more. Along the way, coal trucks coming from the opposite direction would pass by from time to time—these were super heavyweights, rated for 50 tons but daring to carry 120 tons. Because of their length, these trucks would often take the middle of the road on mountain bends, occupying part of the oncoming lane to give their rear ends enough room. If it weren’t snowing, Two-faced could just brake and slow down to handle it, but now the road was like a ski slope, and he absolutely couldn’t step on the brake lightly. If he collided with a coal truck, its 100-plus tons would easily push the one-ton Corolla off the cliff.

If there were no other passing cars to witness it, in such an accident, the big truck would likely just drive away. Neither the traffic police nor the victim’s family would ever know how the car went off the cliff.

They drove for several more hours like this. Around midnight, they were already very close to their destination, and the mountain road was getting narrower and more dangerous.

On a mountain road, if the right side is the mountain wall and the left is the cliff as you go up, it doesn’t mean it’ll be like that the whole way. National and provincial roads that cut through mountains are often built along the most convenient routes, and frequently, at the junction of two peaks, the road will switch to follow another mountain. So sometimes your car is next to the mountain wall, and sometimes it’s right by the cliff.

When Two-faced was going downhill at a sharp turn, hugging the cliff side, he suddenly saw a huge rock lying across the road ahead, as big as a square table.

The Lüliang Mountains are made of gravel deposits, which are very prone to crumbling and collapsing. If the rocks fall onto the road, that’s not so bad, but if they happen to fall on a passing car, a small sedan could instantly be smashed into a can of human meat.

Two-faced didn’t dare brake on the snowy road. He turned the wheel left, heading into the oncoming lane, planning to go around. Just then, a strong light suddenly appeared at the cliff-side bend ahead, and a coal truck came out from behind the mountain wall.

Gray-haired cried out in alarm. At this point, stopping the car—whether or not he could stop in time—would mean putting their fate in the hands of the oncoming truck. That 100-ton giant coming around the bend, suddenly seeing a car in the wrong lane, might not be able to stop in time.

Two-faced floored the gas, speeding up, hoping to get back into his own lane before the truck arrived. The truck saw them too, honked its air horn, and hit the brakes. The horn was deafening in the deep mountains. Two-faced pressed the gas a bit too hard, and the Corolla started to skid. When the two vehicles were only a dozen meters apart, the Corolla finally made it back to the cliff-side lane.

As the two vehicles passed each other, Two-faced vaguely heard the truck driver cursing through the glass, “What the hell are you doing? Where do you think you’re going!”