Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 69 Smoking Less

Yuri held his breath.

It's at least thirty meters from here to the target.

It is nighttime.

The streetlights cast a dim yellow light, reflecting off the damp ground and creating dappled patches of light.

The target kept moving among the crowd, talking, playing around, turning his head, and everything was swaying.

Moreover, this is an old-fashioned Makarov.

Military standard issue, due to years of severe friction, the trajectory is unstable, and the accuracy starts to drift after twenty meters.

This is simply an impossible, life-or-death shooting.

Damn it, I misjudged him.

This person isn't an assassin, he's a madman.

Yuri's heart tightened, his Adam's apple bobbed, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Zhou Yi slowed her breathing and adjusted the angle slightly.

boom--!
The first bullet abruptly tore through the night, the flash of light disappearing in an instant by the car window.

Makar's body jolted, then he swayed twice, clutching his right arm in pain.

The people around him reacted instantly, drawing their guns, looking around, and protecting their leader.

The scene suddenly exploded.

Yuri's heart skipped a beat, and he almost stepped on the gas.

But before he could move, a second gunshot rang out.

boom--!
Makar's head suddenly tilted to the side, as if struck by an invisible force, and he collapsed to the ground.

Blood mixed with brain matter flowed out.

Amid the chaos, someone spotted the direction of the firing and roared as they charged toward the road.

Zhou Yi sheathed his gun and turned to look at Yuri.

"drive."

Yuri sat there, completely bewildered. "How the hell did you do that?!"

"Drive," Zhou Yi repeated.

"Damn it." Yuri gritted his teeth, turned the key all the way, and the engine roared.

He pressed the clutch and shifted gears in quick succession, causing the car to vibrate slightly, and the Lada quickly drove out of the intersection.

Only then did the gunfire truly begin behind them.

Yuri sobered up completely.

As he drove, he turned to Zhou Yi and asked, his face filled with disbelief:

"Who the hell are you? At that distance, you actually fired a gun?"

Zhou Yi shrugged. "The wind isn't strong today, and I'm pretty lucky."

“Luck?” Yuri murmured, repeating, “If this is luck, I’d rather buy a lottery ticket.”

The car turns left, turns right, goes straight, and then turns left again.

After about ten minutes, we drove into an old residential area.

The shops had long since closed, with only a few houses having dim lights shining from their windows.

The car stopped and the engine was turned off.

Yuri, having finally regained his composure, pulled an old-fashioned wallet from inside his coat, opened it, and handed a dozen or so bills to Zhou Yi.

"Six hundred dollars, the price you agreed on."

"I have to say, you did an even better job today than I expected."

Zhou Yi took the money, didn't count it, and stuffed it directly into his pocket.

Yuri leaned back on the steering wheel, a smile on his face. "If you keep working at this efficiency and are willing to take on more orders, you'll make a fortune sooner or later."

"Only a few hundred yuan per person, how much money can you make?" Zhou Yi raised an eyebrow, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"You want more?"

“I’ve just proven my abilities,” Zhou Yi said, looking at him. “So why can’t we talk about something bigger?”

There was a moment of silence in the carriage.

Yuri's eyes revealed a hint of hesitation.

Then, after a long pause, he nodded as if he had made up his mind. "In fact, I do know a few jobs that would be more suitable for you, but they all require some preparation."

“They’re not dealing with street gangs, but with guys who actually have connections.”

"So you'll need to spend some time finding out?"

"Inquire, arrange, smooth things over—you know what I mean."

"If you're really interested, I can make a few calls tonight and let you know the results tomorrow."

"of course can."

Yuri looked at him and tentatively asked, "So, where would you like to meet?"

"It's in that bar," Zhou Yi said. "Anyway, I know the way."

"Okay." Seeing that he couldn't get any more information, Yuri didn't say anything more and immediately settled on a time: "Then it'll be nine o'clock tomorrow night."

"Nine o'clock."

Zhou Yi opened the car door, and a blast of cold air immediately rushed in.

He stepped onto the sidewalk, about to leave, when Yuri's voice called out to him.

"Wait—my gun."

Zhou Yi turned to look at him, shaking the gun handle in his hand.

"Haven't you already taken a significant cut? Consider this a free gift."

Yuri was taken aback at first, then burst out laughing.

"You seem to know a lot about these things." He waved his hand. "Take it, I don't need it."

Zhou Yi strolled along the road, heading north.

He had no specific destination. After passing several rows of Khrushchev buildings, he saw a faded neon sign hanging on a street corner.

Half of the pale blue letters were not lit, barely forming the word "hotel".

An old Volga was parked at the entrance, covered in dust, with its front wheels stuck in the mud, clearly indicating that it had been abandoned for a long time.

He pushed open the door and entered, only to find that it was a completely different world inside.

The lobby was clean and tidy, with a few artificial green plants placed in the corner.

Above them hung a television set, playing a silent old movie. The images were jumbled and the subject matter was vaguely discernible as a war film.

A young woman in her early twenties was sitting at the front desk. Her hair was tied in a ponytail, and she was wearing a slightly faded green sweater. She was looking down and flipping through an old magazine.

Hearing the door open, she looked up and smiled, "Good evening, do you need a hotel?"

Zhou Yi could tell it was Ukrainian; the sentences were simple, roughly asking if he needed a room.

“Stay for a week,” he replied in Russian.

The woman's gaze lingered on his face for a second, then she switched to Russian: "Cash? Or—"

"Dollar."

The woman became interested, tossed the magazine aside, and sat up straighter. "How long do you plan to stay?"

"Seven days."

The woman pursed her lips, as if she were making an estimate, and then held up a number, "Six dollars a night, forty-two a week."

“Too expensive.” Zhou Yi frowned. “You have to understand that the US dollar is not as valuable as the Cabinet now.”

Seeing that the customer wasn't falling for her tricks, the woman sighed, "Alright. If you pay now, I'll give you breakfast."

Upon hearing this, Zhou Yi looked around and feigned surprise: "You have a restaurant here?"

The woman winked at him playfully: "There's no such thing. My brother works in the kitchen nearby, so I can have him bring it up for you. I also have black tea, but it's in tea bags."

Zhou Yi took out a fifty-yuan note from his pocket and placed it on the table.

Seeing this, the woman frowned and looked at Zhou Yi hesitantly: "I'm sorry, I don't have any change."

“It’s alright,” Zhou Yi said calmly. “Keep it.”

The woman paused for a moment, then her smile became more natural: "That's really great. Thank you."

She reached into a wooden drawer under the table and pulled out an old key, pushing it in front of Zhou Yi. "Third floor, turn right, go to the very end."

Zhou Yi nodded and was about to reach for it when the woman suddenly added, "Please try not to smoke in the room."

This time, her tone was more serious. She pointed to his pocket and said, "Last time someone burned a hole in the bed, and I got yelled at for a week."

Zhou Yi smiled slightly, "I'll try my best."

(End of this chapter)