There can't be a Harvest Moon in the RimWorld.

"Don't worry, this is just due to the terrain, it will dissipate soon."

Jackie spoke calmly, but deep down he wasn't entirely confident. He'd been driving here for so long, and this was the first time he'd encountered such a strange environment.

In his limited memory, he only remembered that after turning a corner, he saw a solidified white fog swirling around the road ahead, obscuring the shapes of the mountains and the road itself.

This fog doesn't appear to be a special phenomenon caused by freezing rain. The outside temperature remains at the same level.

Most likely, it was caused by the unique terrain, just as he recalled. Many of the viaducts here are level with the mountain peaks, and at night, thick fog often rises from the valleys, boulders, and shady areas, spreading along the entire road in a very short time.

But what made this fog different was that it came without any warning.

"Mr. Jackie, are you really familiar with this kind of fog?"

The middle-aged man in the passenger seat continued to ask questions unhurriedly, as if the changes around him had nothing to do with him.

"Hmm... I've encountered this situation quite a few times, and my father has told me about it too."

"Does such dense fog, where you can't see your hand in front of your face, happen often here?"

“No, it’s very rare,” Jackie said honestly.

Except for the round-faced young man in the back seat who was still trembling with fear, the car fell silent once again.

In this incongruous silence, the round-faced youth's heartbeat seemed unusually loud.

The car, carrying four people with differing thoughts, moved slowly through the ghastly white fog like a beetle. Every second the car tore through the fog, and every second it was swallowed up by it.

The headlights weakly illuminated the road ahead, but were blocked several meters away, and the only thing that could be barely seen was the reflective markings on the road ahead.

The people on the bus all closed the windows tightly, as if afraid that the unclean white fog would sneak in through the gaps in the vehicle.

No one knew where this feeling came from, but they all felt an unanimous aversion to the mist. It was as if the mist was emerging from the gaps in an endless abyss, carrying the strange murmurs of extraterrestrial evil gods that kept repeating themselves.

Before me lay a dry and tedious white mist.

All I could hear was the monotonous and noisy sound of cars.

In such an environment, everyone longs for something to break free of this iron cage. Even the most outrageous ghost stories are better than this torturous atmosphere.

After much deliberation, driver Jackie turned the car radio back on, and that deep, clear male voice once again came through the speakers.

"...Thank you for listening, everyone. We're about to finish the last story of tonight's midnight talk show."

"We hope all our listeners will actively participate and share more and better stories. The final segment is the midnight call-in; we will now draw one lucky listener for a conversation."

Next came a rattling sound, like someone drawing lots, followed by the clicking sound of equipment being adjusted, and then the radio played a phone call connection tone.

"Beep...beep...beep..."

"Unfortunately, it seems the first listener is unable to answer. We will draw the next listener."

"Beep...beep...beep..."

"It seems the second listener also missed the opportunity, but that's okay, we've prepared a third audience member, so please listen patiently."

This meaningless segment was repeated twice, and the people on the bus were wondering why the radio station would keep such a boring segment and keep broadcasting it until 2 a.m.

"Hello, this is Midnight Talk. Are you one of our listeners?"

Finally, the radio crackled to life as the phone was answered.

"Yes! Hello! I'm your loyal listener!"

An excited voice came from the phone. Are there really such enthusiastic fans waiting in front of the phone in the middle of the night, hoping to be selected?

"Thank you. What story would you like to share with us tonight?"

"Well, I've prepared a story, and I hope you'll all enjoy it."

"Tonight's theme is the East-West Highway, and the story I'm going to tell is also related to it."

"Sizzle... sizzle..."

The radio crackled with electrical interference, as if something was affecting the signal.

"Sir, can you hear me, sir?"

"Sizzle... I suddenly found myself in a strange place. The roads there aren't much different from here, but I've never seen the buildings or writing around me before... Sizzle..."

"Dear listeners, the signal over there seems to be a bit weak. Please wait a moment while our technicians make adjustments."

"Sizzle... I'm stuck here. My car is damaged and can't move. I don't know what to do... Sizzle..."

The listener on that radio station was completely unaware of his problem and continued to tirelessly describe his story.

An incomplete story paired with faint radio waves creates an eerie style, like the ramblings of a person on their deathbed—disjointed, indistinct, and full of the unknown.

"Buzz... Is there anyone who can save me? I've been trapped here for days. There's nothing here, and it's never dawn. No matter how far I go, I'm pulled back to where I started... Buzz..."

The person's initially calm and composed description gradually turned into a panicked, tearful voice, as if someone were truly trapped in an unknown place awaiting rescue.

If this was a performance by that listener, it was far too realistic, even more adept at manipulating emotions than a professional radio host. But if it wasn't a performance, why was he so cheerfully identifying himself to the host at the beginning of the story?

Countless unknowns swirled in everyone's minds, but no one dared to ask, fearing that they might puncture the last barrier of their rational world and fall into an indescribable and unspeakable terror.

"Tsk... I'm leaving. I'm going to find a way out. Since I've come here, there must be a way out. This journey might take a hundred years, or it might only take a day. I'll arrive tomorrow, and I'll leave yesterday, hahahahahaha... tsk..."

Strange words kept coming from the radio, like the ramblings of a madman who had lost his mind, lost in his own world of consciousness.

"Sizzle... I left half a clue in a house. If anyone else comes in, they can get out, but those who come after them won't be so lucky... Sizzle... Hurry up... Sizzle... Don't look back..."

"Run! Sizzle..."

The conversation abruptly stopped at that moment, and the host's voice hurriedly cut in, clearly revealing something unusual.

"Sorry, listeners. There was an anomaly with the radio waves just now. Our technicians have repaired it and disconnected the abnormal connection. That's all for today's program. We hope to see you again tomorrow. Goodbye."

Before the people in the car could even catch their breath and shake off that perplexing story, a new voice came from the radio...

"Ugh... Tech team, what did you say? The broadcasting equipment was broken and not turned on today? Then I wasted the whole night working on it for nothing! Couldn't you guys have checked it properly?!"

When that calm and clear male voice came out again, he had completely lost his composure and was complaining like an ordinary person.

"Buzz... Oh well, I guess I'm just unlucky today. Anyway, nobody can hear the show tonight, everyone should just go home... Buzz... What bad luck... Wait, how did that phone call get through... Buzz..."

The radio broadcast completely stopped, leaving only a few people looking at each other in bewilderment.

Chapter 61 Dream

The thick fog, obscuring the sky and the sun, engulfed the world like a tide, gradually drowning out the anxious hearts of those inside the car.

"Is this just for the sake of the show on the radio?" the round-faced young man said uncertainly.

"Yeah, it's probably just for the show. These days, shows love to use these kinds of gimmicks to grab attention. Damn it, we shouldn't have listened to this show."

The driver, Jackie, slammed his fist on the steering wheel in frustration, turned off the car radio, and switched to the car's built-in music player.

In the past, drivers often liked to listen to the radio in their cars to alleviate loneliness during long drives and increase interaction. This could stimulate tired and numb nerves.

But today's program clearly exceeded his expectations; it wasn't just exciting, it was terrifying!

“It’s alright, let’s keep going,” said the middle-aged man in the passenger seat. “By the way, Mr. Jackie, how long will it take to reach our destination?”

"It'll be about an hour away, but I don't know how much longer it will take now."

He checked the time; it was 1:30 a.m. At this slow speed, the original distance would take at least two trips.

"You guys get some sleep first. I'll drive slowly; the fog might clear up soon. I'll wake you up when we reach our destination."

Seeing Jackie's confident expression, the others in the car stopped thinking about it, adjusted their seats and postures, and closed their eyes. They were all too exhausted tonight and desperately needed rest.

The monotonous sound of the car engine mingled with the wind outside, creating a whirring, buzzing roar. The round-faced youth, half-asleep, accidentally pressed his face against the car window and immediately felt a strange, damp, sticky sensation, as if the tongue of some giant beast were licking him, accompanied by hot, humid air that made him feel uneasy.

But he quickly turned away from that feeling, and all that remained before him was the call of his deep, sweet sleep, a place containing everything he longed for, protecting him from the outside world.

The strangeness outside seemed to vanish the moment he closed his eyes.

He returned to his warm home and lay down in front of the glowing fireplace, reading a book. A light rain was falling outside, tapping against the windowpane and then sliding down into the cracks of the building.

The crackling sound of burning firewood transformed into a gentle, hypnotic melody, smoothing out every wrinkle in his nerves.

The words on the book became increasingly blurry to him, even leaping and dancing, like rootless sprites playing and frolicking, combining into different words to greet him.

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier, his breathing became more and more even, and the tide of drowsiness, carrying with it the turmoil of the world, once again engulfed him. It was a slight feeling of suffocation, which enveloped him with an intoxicating happiness.

His mother, who was busy inside, passed by him with a troubled and helpless expression, and brought a cashmere blanket to cover him.

He rolled over.

The only sound in the world was the crackling of firewood being burned.

Crackling sounds...

Crackling sounds...

Crackling sounds...

...............

After an unknown amount of time, the round-faced youth woke up with a start.

He opened his eyes blankly, feeling slightly dizzy. All the beautiful things in his dream had been shattered by reality.

The crackling sound of the firewood was actually the noise of car tires passing through cracks in the road. The rain outside the window was transformed into the sound of the wind scratching at the car window.

The blissful yet suffocating warmth of the fireplace in his dream was actually a reflection of the stifling and suffocating air inside the car.

"What a despairing feeling," the round-faced youth muttered, rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, with only the drowsiness in his mind still stubbornly resisting.

"You're awake?" the driver, Jackie, asked, perhaps having overheard his mutterings.

"Yes, Mr. Jackie. You haven't slept at all? Do you want to rest for a bit?" the round-faced young man said somewhat embarrassedly. While the passengers could sit and rest, the driver couldn't let his guard down, having been driving for who knows how long that night.

"I'm fine, you all just need to rest. I'm afraid that if I rest, I won't be able to walk anymore..."

A bone-chilling cold rose from the round-faced youth's spine and shot straight to the top of his head.

His buttocks, which had been numb from sitting for so long, suddenly regained sensation, and the suppressed urge to urinate surged up rapidly.

He recognized it!

Driver Jackie is scared!

Because the first greeting was so brief, he didn't notice the slight tremor in the driver's voice. But the second greeting gave him away.

The driver, Jackie, spoke in a trembling and weak voice, his words carrying a neurotic quality, as if he had endured a long and fruitless struggle and was on the verge of giving up.