Industrial Cthulhu doesn't believe in the end times.

Chapter 42 I can really go home!
September 2, 2*30.

13 days to go.

With the actions of the East, the global situation has become increasingly tense.

Mexicali, Tenochtitlan.

As the oldest city in the Western Hemisphere, it remains the capital of a country, but it has lost the glory of the Aztec era.

This place was relatively peaceful and stable in previous years, and was considered a tourist destination. However, the situation has deteriorated sharply in the last two years. Amidst the chaos and turmoil in North America, war has already swept across this land.

Especially recently, even in cities, incidents of vandalizing police stations and committing violent acts have become increasingly common.

Too far from heaven, too close to North America—that's a true reflection of the entire Mexicali.

Hearing the occasional gunshots outside, Han Zhong sighed.

Just then, there was a series of urgent knocks on the door. Han Zhong was startled and instinctively reached for the baseball bat beside him. He only realized it was his colleague when he heard the shouts outside.

"Hurry, hurry, Old Han, let's go!"

"What's wrong? What's wrong?! Is anyone here?!"

"They're almost here! Let's go! Old Joe will take us to the airport!"

Han Zhong hurriedly grabbed his luggage and went out the door. He saw a pickup truck parked on the street with several small red flags stuck on it.

There were several black-haired, black-eyed Asians in the pickup truck. Some of them were familiar, and some were not, but together they pulled Han Zhong up.

"Thank you, thank you, brother."

"Don't thank me, we're all family."

Han Zhong has been working in Mexicali for four years. The more he is in a foreign land, the more he misses his homeland. Although he gets along well with the locals, he can only feel that special warmth from his compatriots.

Over the years, he has rarely had the opportunity to go home. Being on the other side of the planet, it is not easy for him to travel back and forth.

This time it's different. The East has launched a general mobilization and a level-one combat readiness, while calling on migrant workers, overseas Chinese, and other people scattered around the world to return to their hometowns as soon as possible.

As for areas with inconvenient transportation, the government has promised to send people directly to pick them up.

Tenochtitlan is certainly not a small place. As the capital of a country, it has a sizable airport. However, given the current tense situation, it is extremely difficult to buy a ticket home immediately.

On the way to the airport, cars with small red flags gradually gathered together, and Han Zhong couldn't help but feel excited.

The people sitting in the car saw each other and laughed from afar.

A line of cars had already formed on the road outside the airport. When Han Zhong finally saw the consulate staff at the front of the line in the distance, he felt relieved.

He then started discussing with his colleagues: "What's the situation? Can the car just go in?"

"It seems so, I don't know how to arrange it."

"Let's wait and see, but we have to walk over. This is Old Joe's car, and he's not coming with us."

Upon hearing this, his colleague turned around, smiled, and shouted towards the driver's seat, "Old Qiao, why don't you come back to China with us? You're still a bachelor anyway. We'll help you out there, and maybe we can even find you a partner!"

"That's right, I heard you even studied in the East? Go back and take a look, things have changed so much over the years!"

Many people on the bus joined in the commotion. Han Zhong also knew about Old Joe's situation. The old man had given himself an Eastern name, Qiao Lun, and was a native of Mexicali.

He studied in the East back in the last century. He returned to join the army halfway through his studies and spent his time dealing with drug lords in the deep mountains and forests. He was discharged from the army due to injury not long after, and his life wasn't great. Later, because he knew Chinese, many people from the East came here to hire him as a tour guide, and local companies would also hire him as a translator to interact with people from the East.

This improved his life, and over the years he even bought a used pickup truck. If any of his friends from the East who work in the area encounter any difficulties, he drives his truck to help them out.

That Eastern civilization, far older than the Aztecs, was on the other side of the world, yet it profoundly influenced the life of this little old man.

Hearing what these people were saying, Old Joe was somewhat tempted, but he still waved his hand.

There's no way I could take him with me.

Han Zhong's colleague was quite interested in this, and he leaned forward quite a bit while clinging to the carriage: "Hey, Lao Qiao, if you have the chance, you really should consider it. I heard that you've been doing well these past few years, and those drug lords' henchmen are coming to cause you trouble again. If you come with us over there, you won't have to deal with that."

"Let me take another look."

That's what they said, but everyone present knew the chances were slim, and they couldn't help but feel sorry for him. At this critical juncture, even they couldn't get tickets back, let alone Old Joe.

The group chatted in the carriage as the line moved slowly. Just as it was about to be their turn, they suddenly heard a faint singing voice.

"...How loud the victory song is..."

"...Singing of our beloved motherland, from now on marching towards prosperity and strength..."

The voice sounded tense, off-key, and choked with sobs. Curious, the group stood up to look and found a little girl standing in front of the staff singing. After finishing, she bowed, wiped away her tears, and went back to her car.

Then the car continued driving into the airport.

"What's going on? Do we have to sing when we go in?"

"I think this has happened before. Oh no, what do I do if I can't sing it?"

"Dude, you can't sing this song? Something's not right with you."

The people in the carriage didn't suspect him, but they still jeered, "What's his background? Investigate thoroughly! It must be investigated thoroughly!"

The person speaking became anxious: "Hey, it's not that I can't sing, it's just that I'm tone-deaf. I'm afraid I won't sing well, and with so many people around, I..."

Han Zhong and the others burst into laughter: "What's wrong with not singing well? Just shout it out! I'll show you how."

As soon as the car came to a stop, he tumbled out and landed in front of the staff member: "Five..."

"Wait, what are you doing?"

The person registering him interrupted him, and Han Zhong was a little confused: "Aren't we supposed to sing when we go in?"

The other party said helplessly, "That girl said her passport was stolen, so they let her in after she sang a song. Did your passports get stolen too?"

"No, no." Han Zhong blushed and pulled out his passport amidst his companions' laughter.

Then, as if he remembered something, he quickly pulled Old Joe over: "Comrade, do you think being able to sing guarantees entry?"

The staff member glanced at Lao Qiao and nodded: "That's right. If you want to go to China, we can make an exception this time. However, after the performance, you will still need to go through some basic reviews and medical examinations. It won't be easy."

Old Joe's lips trembled slightly, and his body stiffened.

A moment later, the crowd cheered and got back into his car, continuing to sing the same song he had just sung.

"Crossing mountains, crossing plains—"

"Crossing the surging Yellow River and Yangtze River—"

"A vast and beautiful land—"

"It's our beloved hometown!"

……

"Look! A Y-20!"

"She's so beautiful..."

The pickup truck carrying everyone looked like a tiny toy in front of that majestic and enormous Kunpeng.

"Get out, get out. People, walk this way. Cars, you need to go through security over there."

"You can get on the car too?"

"of course."

The Y-20 has a carrying capacity of 66 tons, easily hauling several trucks back. Of course, this is also because few people buy trucks locally, resulting in a limited number of vehicles. If there is a shortage of transport capacity...

Then we'll wait for the next train.

Old Joe's used pickup truck was driven away by the staff. He stood there a little lost, and a group of people surrounded him: "Come on, come on, we'll go with you to the medical check-up."

(End of this chapter)