American Zombie Detective

Chapter 239 Reading Clouds to Predict the Weather

Ten minutes or so later, the prison's loudspeaker suddenly blared: "Emergency Notice! Attention all personnel! The National Weather Service has issued its highest level warning! An unnamed tropical cyclone is approaching the San Francisco Bay Area coastline at an unexpected speed! Repeat, it's approaching!"

The voice on the radio was serious and urgent.

"Due to the influence of its outer circulation and complex climate models, this region is expected to experience extreme rainfall and strong winds in the coming hours! This severe weather event is expected to last for several days!"

"All on-duty prison guards, immediately remain at your posts! Off-duty personnel, report to the security center immediately! Area leaders, increase patrols to ensure order and stability! The prison will immediately implement the heavy rain season plan in its entirety! Repeat, this is not a drill!"

The announcement was broadcast three times in a row, and the atmosphere in the entire prison instantly became tense.

The sky outside visibly darkened, and the wind began to howl as it blew over the prison walls, bringing with it a fishy smell.

Wow!

Constantine stuffed his cigarette into the drawer of his small table, whistled, and turned to shout at the neighbor, "Hey! You next door! You're right! You just said it was going to rain, and this is more than just rain, it's practically the end of the world!"

How did you know?

There was a moment of silence next door, then the voice rang out again; the English wasn't very fluent, there was a bit of stuttering, and even some...

The Chinese sentence reads: "In China, there's an old saying: 'When the sky is clouded like a fortress, it rains heavily on the ground,' and another: 'When the sky is like a fish scale pattern, even without rain, there will be wind.'"

[Madness]. Seeing — the cloud of the fortress — therefore, a storm is coming soon.

Constantine, only half-understanding, turned to Qin Jin with a bewildered look: "Qin, what is he babbling about? What do those two sentences in Chinese mean?"

Qin Jin's previously languid expression froze slightly.

"When the sky is covered with fortified clouds, the ground will be pouring rain" — This comes from the extremely obscure book "Xiangyu Shu" from the Tang Dynasty. Fortified clouds refer to cumulonimbus clouds with their tops raised like castles. Their appearance indicates severe convective weather, often accompanied by thunderstorms and heavy rain.

"Fish-scale clouds in the sky mean either rain or fierce winds" — This proverb, likely from the Ming Dynasty's *Complete Treatise on Agriculture*, refers to the appearance of fine, fish-scale-like cirrus clouds in the sky. If these clouds continue to thicken, they transform into fortified clouds.

This is not simply about predicting the weather by looking at clouds; it's something that only highly professional people who observe the sky, the weather, and the clouds can learn, and even in China, very few people know it.

Moreover, in an American prison?

His heart skipped a beat, but he remained outwardly calm and explained to Constantine in English in a flat tone, "I understand. It should be an old saying about predicting the weather by looking at the clouds, an ancient proverb."

"Not bad!" Constantine perked up, finding his neighbor quite interesting, and shouted to the next door, "Wow! You know all this stuff, no wonder you're of Chinese descent—hey! We Qin are also of Chinese descent, you two will definitely get along."

Qin Jin immediately picked up the conversation, his tone unusually nonchalant, carrying a familiar air of distance common among Chinese Americans—a slight unfamiliarity with their homeland's culture: "Hey, don't talk nonsense. We're the ones born in America, that's what we call Chinese Americans. The others are proper Chinese, we're even different nationalities." He then turned to the person next door and asked, "My name is Qin Jin, I'm from Sichuan, and my father is a sheriff in Texas. What's your name?"

The man next door replied, "My name is Yun Conglong. I'm from China. I've been in America for a short time."

"Yun Conglong?" Constantine chewed on the name, even more curious. "Cool! So—Yun, what did you do to get here?"

Yun Conglong paused, then shook his head with a wry smile: "Let's not talk about these things; they weren't pleasant experiences."

He cleverly passed the buck back to you: "So—what about you? How did you get here?"

You used the wrong word again.

"Uh—well—" Constantine was caught off guard by the question and could only awkwardly touch his nose, chuckling awkwardly, "Haha! It's a long story, very complicated, full of—well—coincidences of fate! Yes, coincidences!"

Qin Jin stepped in at the opportune moment to defuse the situation, his tone conveying a sense of empathy, as if they were both in the same boat: "Alright, John, stop asking. Everyone who's come here has some painful stories they'd rather not tell."

Constantine smoothly changed the subject and continued chatting, from the awful weather to the prison food, trying to get some information out of him.

Qin Jin occasionally chimed in with a word or two, more like a focused listener, but all his senses were like invisible tentacles, quietly focusing on the room next door.

He deliberately maintained a certain persona during the conversation:

He was a Chinese American who had heard of Chinese culture but knew very little about it, and was almost completely Westernized. He displayed a perfectly measured, half-baked understanding of the Chinese elements that Yun Conglong occasionally mentioned.

Just then, the dinner bell rang sharply, echoing through the corridor, which was gradually enveloped by the oppressive atmosphere of an impending storm.

Right there in the hallway, they bumped into their new neighbor next door.

This is a young Chinese man who looks to be in his early twenties. He has a handsome face and seems harmless. In modern terms, he has a strong "puppy-like" charm.

However, the moment their eyes met, alarm bells rang in Qin Jin's mind!

A sandalwood scent, seemingly ingrained in his very being, emanated from him, a stark contrast to the foul air of the prison, a mixture of disinfectant and sweat.

Qin Jin remained outwardly calm, but inwardly three hypotheses instantly formed regarding this person's identity:

1. An official member. He is a special agent working for the FBI, and comes from a certain sect of Taoism. Since he was sent by the FBI, this possibility is not small.

If that's the case, then his situation upon entering was similar to mine; he was probably tracking something, most likely Peng Sheng.

2. A folk exorcist. Peng Sheng killed so many people, causing quite a stir, it's not surprising that he attracted such a lone wolf chasing supernatural prey.

3. The worst-case scenario — This guy is the one in the video — the successor of the Celestial Master!

The video was shot from a great distance, making it impossible to see the face clearly. The figure was also indistinguishable due to the flowing sleeves, so it's really hard to say whether it's really her or not.

The thought of the third possibility sent a chill down Qin Jin's spine.

The only thing that gave him some peace of mind was that he had consumed three drops of Jesus' blood, which neutralized most of his zombie aura and even allowed him to simulate heartbeat and body temperature for a short period of time, perfectly disguising himself as a living person. Unless someone could draw his blood to analyze the inhuman blood composition, it would immediately expose him! Otherwise, it would be extremely difficult to see through his true nature based on perception alone.

Regardless of whether it was true or not, Qin Jin was determined to kill this young man, but he had to be extremely careful and absolutely could not act rashly, otherwise he would attract his attention and be doomed.

Ideally, we should use someone else to do the dirty work!

It's better to fail at killing him than to expose him, because 99% of the time he's not here for me. Since that's the case, I'll just play it safe for now and wait for the right opportunity.

Yun Conglong and Qin Jin only had a brief interaction before Yun Conglong was completely captivated by Dante's enthusiasm and followed the group down the path, seemingly oblivious to Qin Jin's unusual behavior.

Dinner was indeed better than lunch. There was a large pot of broth that looked cloudy but was steaming hot, with a small mountain of bread, grilled salmon, and vegetable salad next to it.

When it was Qin Jin and Constantine's turn, the prisoner serving the food didn't tremble at all. He scooped out the few bones from the soup base and gave each of them a piece. He also picked out the largest salmon. "Boss - there's not much food today, please forgive us - " His voice was trembling slightly, afraid of upsetting the two of them.

Qin Jin didn't say anything, just nodded and accepted it.

Yun Conglong, who was following behind them, did not receive the same treatment. He only got a bowl of clear soup, and the salmon was broken up and looked completely cold.

Qin Jin and Constanze found a table, sat down, broke the bread into small pieces, soaked them in the soup, and ate them slowly.

Yun Conglong didn't come over, but found a random spot. However, he was immediately subjected to a probing bullying by a gang member with skull, rose, dagger and flame tattoos on his arm. The gang member reached across the table and put his spoon into Yun Conglong's plate, slowly scooping up a piece of salmon. He scrutinized Yun Conglong with a provocative look as he put the salmon into his own plate.