Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 320 Racists

That night.

The temperature was slightly cool after the rain, and the light at the garage entrance flickered twice before turning on.

Isabel, a cigarette dangling from her lips, gripped the steering wheel with one hand and reversed the car.

Just then, a figure flashed past in the rearview mirror.

Immediately afterwards——

"Bang bang bang!"

The side window was being banged on loudly.

She slammed on the brakes, and cigarette ash fell onto the back of her hand.

Turning my head, I saw a white woman appear beside me at some point.

Around sixty years old, with curly hair, leading a slightly deformed Chihuahua.

Isabel rolled down the car window to let the smoke out.

"Sorry I startled you," the woman said with a smile. "I'm Karen, the head of the homeowners' association."

She pondered for a moment, her eyes scanning Isabel.

"So, you're that Asian gentleman's friend?"

"You don't often see interracial couples here—of course, I don't mean that. Love is love, and this is an inclusive community."

Isabel sensed the implication in her tone, took a deep breath, and patiently asked:

"I'm his sister, is there anything I can help you with?"

The Chihuahua barked twice.

Karen tugged on the leash twice and moved closer again.

"Oh, sister, that's a really special experience."

She smiled, her tone slowing down as if she were chatting casually.

“My son-in-law’s nephew is also dating an Asian girl.”

"Very polite, quiet, and very likable."

"Perhaps it came from Japan, not China. Please forgive my memory."

"Maybe they know each other?"

Upon hearing this, Isabel completely abandoned any intention of being polite.

She rolled up the car window expressionlessly, shutting out the chattering woman, and continued reversing into the parking space.

Karen's figure remained there.

The Chihuahua trembled slightly as it circled on the gravel path.

The engine was turned off, Isabel bent down to pick up her briefcase, and got out of the car.

Then, he lit another cigarette before slowly walking over.

"Is there anything else, Karen?"

Upon hearing this, the woman's expression visibly soured.

She choked for a moment, paused for two seconds, and her tone turned cold.

"This house has quite a few problems. The lawn is too tall; the association requires it to be under six inches. The trash can is always placed in front of the door, which is unsightly. The light bulb by the door has been broken for two weeks and no one has replaced it, and the mailbox is peeling and no one has taken care of it. Some neighbors have also complained that they can always smell smoke."

Karen glanced meaningfully at the cigarette between Isabel's fingers.

“If these situations are not resolved quickly, the association will consider imposing fines or even reporting them to higher authorities. Most importantly—we all hope it doesn’t come to that, but if the problem persists, I may have to call the police.”

After finishing this long speech, she slightly raised her chin, waiting for the woman's reply.

To her disappointment, Isabel still did not react.

He looked down at me with a calm expression, without saying a word.

The Chihuahua barked again, its cries sharp and piercing.

The rope was taut as the person lunged forward.

This time, Karen didn't move, letting the dog in her arms make a pitiful screech.

Isabel gave a cryptic hum and stubbed out her cigarette on the sole of her shoe.

“I will handle the issues you mentioned,” she said.

However, just as a near-victorious smile was about to appear on Karen's face—

Then Isabel changed the subject:
"Just next time, don't suddenly bring your dog onto our lawn."

"Also, with a bit of compassion, perhaps it's time to consider returning this poor beast to God; it's lived long enough."

"I know a good doctor who might be able to help you."

Karen froze, her expression like cracked paint peeling off inch by inch.

She instinctively opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but only managed to squeeze out a weak sentence:

"This is too much."

"In short, have a wonderful and peaceful night."

Isabel smiled at her and turned to walk towards the door.
-
The flight landed with a bumpy thud on the Simferopol runway. As soon as it came to a stop, a commotion erupted in the cabin.

After finally receiving the notification, the passengers hurriedly pulled their luggage and squeezed forward.

Zhou Yi didn't move.

He leaned back in his seat and casually pulled his hat brim down even further.

Once the area was mostly empty, he picked up his handbag and followed slowly.

Jim followed closely behind, unshaven, his shoulders swaying like a backpacker planning a budget trip through Eastern Europe.

Stepping off the covered bridge, a wave of cold air hit me, carrying a strong smell of fuel.

The airport wasn't large; under the dim yellow lights, several armed guards had pistols strapped to their sides.

The atmosphere at customs was even more tense.

The group was filled with Ukrainian, Russian, and even English.

Some people were complaining that the queue was too slow, while others were arguing in hushed tones.

Several young men who looked like reporters held passports and kept glancing at the window.

Zhou Yi stood behind them, calmly observing the surroundings.

The camera at the exit is angled at 45 degrees, mounted high, and covers the entire passage.

The guard on the left has a tattoo on his arm.

The color is grayish, it's at least ten years old, and upon closer inspection, it looks like a style commonly seen in prisons.

The searchlights near the ticket gates were too bright, creating blind spots.

He didn't say anything, and neither did Jim; they even yawned.

When it was their turn, the border guards looked down and stared at their passports for a few seconds.

"Business trip or travel?"

"travel."

Snapped.

The seal fell.

As you exit the arrival hall, you'll see a long line of taxis.

The drivers, cigarettes dangling from their lips, craned their necks and called out to attract customers.

In the distance, several military trucks rumbled past, their camouflage nets half-lifted, revealing soldiers carrying guns inside.

Jim rubbed his face and took a metal can out of his pocket.

"Same as always, Eastern European flavor."

He rubbed a pinch of dark brown tobacco into his mouth and stuffed it between his lower lip and gums.

Then, I let out a long sigh of relief.

Zhou Yi nodded in agreement and took the things from his hands.

A moment later, the bitter taste of nicotine spread through the saliva.

"It's always the same, nothing has changed."

The nearby utility poles were covered with protest leaflets.

Even with the edges of the paper dampened by rain, the bright red text was still legible.

"Freedom"

free.

“вромайдан

EU Square.

This atmosphere is all too familiar.

Montenegro, Baghdad, Kandahar.

The air is always the same on the eve of a riot.

It was damp, stuffy, and seemed ready to explode at any moment.

“This place will be finished in less than two months.” Jim tugged at his backpack strap.

Zhou Yi shrugged, unscrewed the mineral water bottle in his hand, and spat into it.

"Who cares? They're just political science topics: economy, sovereignty, integration."

"The most important thing now is to get some genuine Russian goods."

"I remember you contacted the seller?"

“Of course.” Jim grinned.

Do you know what's the best thing about Russian goods?

“Cheap—unbelievably cheap.”

(End of this chapter)