Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
Zhao Mingkun disappeared into the darkness without looking back. I watched his figure gradually blend into the background, still unable to believe that we had encountered each other so quickly again. I never expected that I would impulsively propose such a condition to Zhao Mingkun for cooperation.
Captain Shao was determined to arrest Zhao Mingkun for the sake of his girlfriend, Yang Juan, seeking closure for both himself and her. Guan Zengbin chose this profession primarily because of Yang Juan as well. If I decided to inform Captain Shao and Guan Zengbin about this matter, Zhao Mingkun would undoubtedly be arrested. However, if I chose to keep it a secret, I would miss the best opportunity to apprehend him.
I couldn't shake the feeling that there was some kind of connection between Zhao Mingkun and me. His suspicious nature made him conceal his true thoughts when he spoke, often using words that seemed puzzling to create an air of mystery around himself.
Perhaps we were all fundamentally the same at our core, just like that old man in Area A. We didn’t trust others but still pretended to be warm and welcoming. As Zhao Mingkun said, people like us might not be worth saving. Sometimes, I found myself quite disgusted with who I was.
Yet, from the moment we are born, curiosity is something we cannot abandon. Twenty years have passed, and I still want to know who my parents are, what crimes my father committed, whether he is alive or dead, and whether my mother felt any sadness or regret when she abandoned me.
I shook my head, deciding not to dwell on these questions that had no answers at present.
Perhaps some people are simply born into loneliness; we are just those whom God has forsaken.
By the time I returned to the City Bureau, it was already late. However, the police station was brightly lit and bustling with activity. As soon as I pushed open the door and stepped into the hall, a police officer waved at me from a distance: "Wu Meng! Captain Wu! They are already in a meeting inside waiting for you; they wanted you to be notified as soon as you returned."
I nodded and hurried toward the conference room. Checking my phone, I saw that no one had called me.
Upon entering the room, I saw it was already filled with people. Captain Shao and Team Leader Li were seated at the front, while others sat on either side, quietly reviewing documents. All members of both teams were present except for Liu Yi. The last time I left, Liu was still at the City Bureau; now I had no idea where he had gone.
Captain Shao waved at me and said, "Take a seat. Gu Chen went out on an errand; have you finished?"
I nodded.
Captain Shao continued, "In that case, we won't wait for Liu."
I interjected with a question: "What did Liu go do?"
"He's investigating the deceased's information," said one of Team Leader Li's chubby team members. "He told us to start the meeting without him."
Mary lightly tapped the table to draw our attention to her before tossing a document my way: "Third Story."
The inevitable had come to pass. When the Third Story appeared, we knew that the Murderer would soon strike. It was an extremely helpless feeling; you were acutely aware that while you were reading the story, the Murderer was already plotting their next kill, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Everyone sat quietly, engrossed in this third murder story.
I opened the document, noticing it had been marked in red ink, suggesting someone had already read it. The Third Story began as follows:
Strictly speaking, I am not a good person. I am just an ordinary worker, toiling day in and day out on the Assembly Line, assembling mobile phones. To be honest, at my age, I earn a decent amount of money, but it's certainly not much.
It is an incredibly dull job; I doubt there is any other job in the world quite like it—one that can make you feel so weary of your work. Standing on the Assembly Line, I couldn't even recall that I had been in this position for twenty years.
But I had come to terms with this monotonous existence when I was eighteen—day after day of unchanging work. All you needed to do was fit the phone case onto the phone; it was a job that required no experience and could be mastered in just five minutes of training. Of course, you needed four minutes to put on a work uniform.
This is a job where you can think about what you'll be doing until retirement from your very first day on the job. Assembly—endless assembly. Although mobile phones are constantly evolving, the work remains exactly the same. If I were to go blind at this moment, I could still perform this job competently.
Today, outside my window stands a willow tree that has just sprouted tender buds, with a total of three thousand two hundred fifty-one branches. Today, from afar, Sister Li mentioned for the thirty-second time how her son is useless. Today, my supervisor came only nine times—one less than yesterday.
I have thought about killing someone more than once; strictly speaking, I am not a good person.
I often fantasize about whether someone might be caught in the machinery at any moment, torn apart by its powerful gears into chunks of flesh, blood splattering everywhere as if it were raining blood. We would bathe in this rain of blood while everyone screamed madly and ran in terror.
I often imagine that widow across the hall who lost her husband five years ago—would she suddenly kick down my door tonight? Without knowing what had happened, she might frantically rip off my clothes before I even have a chance to speak and then kiss me passionately. We would make love wildly until morning.
I often wonder about that six-year-old child who hasn’t started school yet—the one who makes a racket every morning at five o'clock. Have all the adults in their home died? Why would they let such a young child run around making noise? Perhaps next time I step outside, I'll accidentally see that child fall from upstairs and splatter into a mess on the ground.
But for such a long time now, nothing has happened; everything remains so mundane.
My life seems much longer than others', yet it feels like it has been cut short compared to theirs. I enjoy watching movies—comedies make me laugh along with the characters; tragedies bring tears to my eyes; horror films make me shiver alongside them.
Yet somehow, I feel like something is missing from everything.
Nothing had changed; it was just another ordinary day.
When I returned home, everything was the same—lonely and empty.
Five years ago, I divorced my wife, and we had no children.
We had been married for a long time; if I counted, it was around the tenth year since I found this job. This job, which I had secured twenty years ago, was a stable one with a good salary that allowed me to buy a house. Twenty years later, apart from the house, I had nothing.
"Old Wang, you're back! My plumbing is acting up; can you take a look?" A middle-aged woman stood at the entrance of the neighborhood chatting with others. Upon seeing me walk in, she quickly addressed me.
I nodded in response.
An old man said, "Isn't this Wang? Wang, my relatives sent me a big package of local specialties. With my old bones, I can't manage to carry it upstairs. Could you help me out later?"
I noticed the old man was playing chess with someone else. I used to enjoy this game too, but now I couldn't even remember the last time I played.
"Uncle Wang! Uncle Wang!" A few kids surrounded me. "We want candy! We want candy!"
"School's out," I said with a smile.
"Candy! Candy!" The kids cheered excitedly.
I had no choice but to rummage through my pockets; all I found was a fifty-yuan bill. One of the kids jumped high, snatched the bill from my hand, and ran off shouting, "Going to buy candy! Going to buy candy!"
The adults in the neighborhood erupted in cheerful laughter as I made my way upstairs.
It felt meaningless; I wasn't really interested in being alive.
I fixed the woman's plumbing, which was clogged with a large mass of hair. As I left, they were having dinner inside. On my way down, I helped the old man carry his box back inside. He told me to leave it by the door since he wanted to finish his game of chess before heading home.
The children were still playing outside when I heard one of them say, "Aren't you supposed to ask him for a red Grandpa Mao? Why did you only take fifty yuan? That new skin for Yasuo costs sixty bucks, and I can't afford it yet."
Another child replied, "You're silly. Tomorrow we can still ask him for it; he will definitely give it to us."
"Is that true?" One child seemed a bit skeptical, after all, fifty yuan was not a small amount among these kids.
The other child nodded seriously and said, "Of course! My mom says my Uncle Wang is such a fool—so gullible. He'll do anything others ask him to do; he's just a nice guy. Can't you see? Those old ladies just boss Uncle Wang around. Actually, they could pay someone else to do those things, but they don't want to spend the money."
The first child nodded in understanding. "So that's how it is. No wonder he's such a fool. How can a fool have so much money?"
"I don't know; maybe fools have their own blessings," the other child said. "Forget him; I'll ask him for money again tomorrow. By the way, what does eQ Double Hit mean…"
I couldn't understand the children's chatter anymore.
The house was dark, and everything was pitch black. I couldn't sleep; I didn't even know when I had stopped being able to sleep.
What was the rope in my hand for?
I stood on a chair and hung the rope from the clothes drying rack on the balcony.
With a loud crash, the stool fell to the ground.
What was that sound?
Comment 0 Comment Count