"Do you hear it?"
It was silent in the car. The engine continued to whirl, and the pitter-patter of rain was loud to the ears.
Lin Guoyun smacked the steering wheel and laughed uncontrollably. "I know it! I know you could hear it! I don't know how God communicates with other people, but He always tells me which person to kill through the rain."
Lin Sanjiu turned her head, staring palely at the young man. The door was locked; outside of the window, more and more buildings were emerging from the darkness, each one looking less like a building of 19-century London than the last. There were a few signboards, such as "Tin Bo Restaurant" and "Chen Clinics", that appeared amongst the densely packed complexes, their bright neon lighting painting the rainy night with kaleidoscopic colors.
The thing that gradually became clearer along with the 1980s Hong Kong's street scene was Lin Guoyun's Cantonese accent.
