Horse Girl, Your Friend is Fighting Her Way Out of the Horse Racing Track

"Are you looking for a taxi?"

The man spoke with a chuckle in English with a thick accent.

"I can take you to the city center, very good price, very safe."

"Ward car hum chapter."

Why is there Chinese text here?

Poetry and Wine scrutinized him for a few seconds, then glanced at the car parked not far away.

It was an ordinary black sedan, clean, with a handwritten "TAXI" sign on a piece of white paper pasted on the windshield.

It doesn't seem to be a problem.

"How much?"

She asked briefly.

The man quoted a price that was almost a third lower than the market rate in the city that Maruzensky had told her beforehand, but it wasn't outrageously low. Poetry and Wine did a quick mental calculation and, finding it within an acceptable range, nodded.

"Great, great!"

"Brother's money."

Poetry and Wine calculated the fare and sent it over quickly.

The man rubbed his hands together, his smile widening.

"Let me go get the car ready!"

"what?"

As soon as he finished speaking, the girl beside him bent down lightly, grabbed the handle of the Poetry and Wine suitcase, and said with a smile in English that was much more fluent than her father's.

"I'll help you with the luggage!"

The suitcase was taken away without any trouble.

Poetry and wine paused for half a second.

The other party acted so decisively that she didn't even have a chance to raise any objections.

The girl was already dragging her suitcase, walking side by side with her father toward the parking lot, turning back to give Shi Yu Jiu a bright smile as she walked.

Poetry and Wine, carrying backpacks, followed for a few steps, then stopped.

"...Wait, I can get it myself—"

But the father and daughter had already turned into the entrance of the parking lot when the man turned back and gestured for her to wait a moment, saying it in a natural tone.

"Wait here! I'll pull the car up!"

Then, the person disappeared into the shadows of the parking lot.

Poetry and Wine stood by the roadside in the waiting area, staring at the parking lot entrance.

I waited for five minutes.

There was no movement.

I waited another five minutes.

Still no movement.

She frowned, took a few steps closer to the parking lot entrance, and peeked inside on tiptoe.

The parking lot was filled with cars, pedestrians coming and going, and travelers pushing their luggage toward the elevator, but—

There was no black sedan.

There was also no middle-aged man with a short mustache.

There was no sign of the smiling girl with a ponytail carrying her suitcase.

Poetry and Wine stood there for a full half minute, maintaining a posture of peering into the parking lot without moving.

Then she slowly lowered her heels.

The nearby streetlights began to light up one after another, casting an orange glow on the damp ground.

Poetry and wine stood on the edge of the orange halo, silently watching the flow of people coming and going, calmly accepting a fact.

She was cheated; it was dog meat.

Interlude: Chapter 390 Haji Wine, Enraged! (Fourth Update)

My suitcase is gone.

Her passport and visa were still in her backpack, and she had hidden her hair accessories well; the only things that were lost were the items in her suitcase.

But my suitcase contained hotel reservation receipts and some cash...

The bank card that Maruzensky gave him, along with the business card with the three giants' information, was in perfect condition in his chest pocket.

This is probably the only thing to be thankful for.

But this doesn't diminish the feeling that poetry and wine at this moment want to smash something.

'...'

She pressed her palm against her forehead, took a deep breath, and tried to suppress her anger with reason.

No wonder the other person was laughing so happily.

I'd be happy if I could make a lot of money.

The person ran away, and the suitcase went with them. Running to the police station in a foreign country where she couldn't speak the language, she wasn't even sure if she could clearly describe the person's appearance and what had happened.

She stood at the entrance to the waiting area for nearly ten more minutes, until the sky had completely darkened and the streetlights cast a long, thin shadow of her. Only then did she finally turn around, pick up her backpack, push open the glass door of the terminal, and walk back.

The hall remained lively.

Poetry and Wine found a row of plastic benches against the wall and sat down, holding their backpacks to their chests and looking down.

The surrounding area was filled with travelers coming and going, and the frying smell of fish and chips wafted from who-knows-where.

Everything was unfamiliar.

Poetry and Wine took out his phone and glanced at the screen.

It's normal that there's no new news about several Japanese software programs.

Poetry and Wine turned his phone over, placed it face down on his lap, and felt a little angry and a little wronged.

"Excuse me..."

A soft voice came from the right.

Poetry and Wine looked up and saw a young female staff member in an airport uniform.

The other person was a local girl in her early twenties, with her hair braided into thin braids and a natural smile on her face. She was looking at her cautiously.

She held a glass of bottled water in her hand and gently handed it towards the direction of the poetry and wine.

"You look...a little lost?"

She spoke in clear English, clearly taking into account any potential language barriers between poetry and wine.

Are you okay?

She handed him the water.

Poetry and wine fell silent for a short while.

Thank you.

She reached out and took the water.

"No problem!"

The staff member breathed a sigh of relief and his smile brightened.

"If you need any help, just find us——"

She pointed to the service counter not far away.

"Okay?"

"Okay."

The girl nodded and turned to leave.

Poetry and Wine looked down at the bottle of water in his hand, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip.

'I should have known better than to be so naive.'

She silently cursed herself in her heart, and then began to consider her current situation.

The luggage is gone, but the documents are still there, which is a good thing.

It's a hassle to buy new laundry clothes.

The most pressing problem right now is that she has no transportation and no place to stay.

The hotel receipts were stolen by someone else, and now the problem is she doesn't know how to safely hail a taxi that won't cheat her.

If she gets scammed again, she'll probably sit in the airport lobby forever.

Poetry and Wine placed the water bottle on his lap and took out the business card from his coat pocket.

Matte thick cardstock with fine gold lines and a hand-drawn cluster of irises on the back.

She turned the business card over and over, staring at the string of numbers printed on it.

'...'

Poetry and Wine took another sip of water.

She thought for a long time. Several groups of passengers changed the plastic seats next to her. A light drizzle began to fall in the leaden-gray night sky outside the terminal. The raindrops hit the floor-to-ceiling windows and made a soft "shush" sound.

Looking at the rain, Poetry and Wine felt a little like crying.

She lowered her head and dialed the number.

The phone rang twice.

"Allo?"

The voices of the three leaders came through the microphone, faintly accompanied by noise; it seemed the other party was eating.

Poetry and Wine held his phone, opening his mouth as if to speak.

"...It is me, poetry and wine."

The person on the other end of the microphone was momentarily stunned, then let out a delighted exclamation.

"Oh dear! You remembered to look for me so quickly?"

"No."

"That is--"

"My suitcase was stolen,"

Poetry and Wine tried to speak calmly, but they couldn't control their aggrieved voices.

"I'm in the airport terminal now, and I don't know how to safely hail a taxi, and I have nowhere to stay."

As they spoke, the voices of the poet and the wine grew increasingly melancholic, as if they were about to cry.

The three giants remained silent for a long time on the other end of the microphone.

"Okay, you wait here, I'll come find you."

"Aren't you going to France—"

"France isn't going anywhere,"

The three leaders spoke casually, and then came the sound of a glass door being pushed open.

"It's just a matter of changing the time, I'll come. What arrival hall are you in right now?"

Poetry and Wine looked up and glanced at the sign above their heads.

"T2, located near the central service counter."