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墨書 Inktalez
Old Shao's gaze seemed to penetrate the Director's heart, understanding what he was truly thinking. He gently patted the Director's shoulder and comforted him, "Old Wen, it's been so long. If he's still alive, that guy should be around eighty now. He's already in the twilight of his years, with one foot in the grave. I doubt he can stir up much trouble anymore."
Director Wen looked at Old Shao. As Old Shao's former disciple, he knew all too well what was going on in Old Shao's mind. Despite Old Shao's words, he probably wanted to catch that person thousands or even tens of thousands of times. The reason Old Shao spoke this way was likely to soothe his own restless heart.
As a student, he naturally hoped his teacher could enjoy a peaceful retirement, but as a director, he certainly didn't want that mind to rest. Otherwise, he wouldn't have rushed over as soon as he heard about Old Shao's return.
"It's not like it's a matter of life and death," Old Shao said, glancing at Director Wen. "If you find any clues about him, just call me back. Just don't blame my old bones for not being able to run."
"How could I..."
In the midst of their conversation, they suddenly heard a commotion outside. The two walked over to the window and saw a man standing on the edge of the rooftop of the building across from them, wearing a tank top and shorts. The building was only six stories high, but it still stood about twenty meters tall.
"Notify the nearby police immediately," Old Shao said as he turned and headed outside.
In no time, Old Shao had reached the ground floor.
As he walked forward, he observed the man on the rooftop. From a distance, the man appeared to be around forty years old; his skin was dark and his face worn, clearly showing signs of hard labor. Old Shao noticed something shiny in the man's hand under the sunlight—it looked like a ring.
Below the building across from them, a crowd had gathered in circles. Amidst their discussions, Old Shao gradually understood what was happening. The man's name was Hong Bao; he was a resident of that building. A month ago, he received a text from his son stating that while out with friends, they had gotten into trouble with local gangsters who demanded one hundred thousand yuan to release him and warned against reporting it or telling anyone.
It was a low-level scam message, but honest Hong Bao fell for it without even considering calling his son to verify.
As an honest worker earning only three thousand yuan a month, all of Hong Bao's savings had gone towards his son's education. How could he possibly gather one hundred thousand yuan in such a short time? Yet for his son's safety, Hong Bao couldn't think about that anymore; he borrowed from various sources until he finally found a loan shark.
Hong Bao just wanted his son to be safe.
He eventually managed to scrape together one hundred thousand yuan and transferred it into the scammer's account.
Until his son returned home for summer vacation, Hong Bao had no idea that it was all just a fabrication.
They immediately reported it to the police, but more than a month had passed, and the hundred thousand yuan had vanished without a trace.
As a result, Hong Bao was buried in debt, unable to repay the usurers. Every time he came home, he was greeted by the glaring message of "Pay your debts." There wasn't a single pane of glass in his windows, as they would be smashed the moment they were repaired. His son complained about his foolishness, and his wife scolded him harshly.
The factory owner had fired him, neighbors gossiped about him, and the landlord wanted to reclaim the house.
Today, his wife took their son back to her parents' home, leaving him utterly alone.
He had no way to escape; the usurers knew everything about him, even where his son went to school. With no options left, he climbed to the rooftop.
If nothing could be salvaged, then death seemed to be his only escape.
Those scammers would never understand that the fifty or one hundred thousand yuan they swindled came at a tremendous cost. That sum could represent a wound that would take a lifetime to heal, years of struggle through storms, a shattered family, and even a lost life.
"Make way, make way," Old Shao struggled through the crowd.
"Hey, old man, why are you pushing? Are you in such a hurry to jump off too?" sneered a young man with bleached hair.
Old Shao ignored the taunts and pressed forward through the throng.
At the front of the crowd stood several social youths. These young men were bare-chested, adorned with tattoos as if they feared no one could see their inked skin. They smoked cigarettes and exchanged banter while filming videos on their phones, some even live-streaming.
"Today I'm live-streaming someone jumping off," one of them from the Tattooed Dragon Gang announced. "Now, everyone who thinks he will jump press 1; if you think he won't jump press 0. Let's see if this idiot goes for it. What do you guys think?"
"Buddy from Scorpion Tattoo said, 'He's been up there for five or six minutes. If he was going to jump, he would have done it by now. I bet this coward won't dare.'"
Another member from Tattooed with a Tiger disagreed, "He's just hesitating. You need to provoke him; otherwise, how will he jump?"
With that, the guy cupped his hands around his mouth like a megaphone and shouted, "Jump! Go ahead and jump! We've been waiting here for so long; we have things to do later!"
Hong Bao listened to the shouts from below, feeling a whirlwind of emotions. He desperately wanted to see his wife and son one last time before he died, but he knew he had let them down. Each shout urging him to jump pierced his heart, echoing as if they were coming from deep within him.
That was the voice of the crowd, calling him to his final resting place.
He loosened his grip; all it would take was a slight lean forward, and he would plunge from the sixth floor, ending his foolish life.
The live-streaming guy burst into laughter, "Look at you, Tiger Brother! Everyone, send in more gifts..."
But before he could finish his sentence, a hand snatched the phone away and smashed it onto the ground, shattering it into pieces. The guy looked up to see an old man's hand—wrinkled and frail. The members of Tattooed Dragon Gang were taken aback that a man in his fifties or sixties dared to interfere.
He reached out to push the old man away.
The old man firmly gripped the guy's hand and shouted back, "Don't jump yet! Don't harm the innocent; let me sort this out first."
Hong Bao was equally surprised that an elderly man was so bold as to confront them. He grabbed onto the railing again.
This old man was Old Shao.
Old Shao held onto the guy's hand with one hand while swinging his other hand around to deliver a resounding slap across the guy's face. The sound echoed loudly, leaving everyone around stunned. The guy couldn't believe an old man would hit him; he covered his face and stood there speechless for a moment.
His companions stared blankly at the old man, and no one spoke.
Old Shao did not look at them but raised his head to address Hong Bao. "Hong Bao, if I remember correctly, that's your name, right? Are you really that upset?"
Hong Bao looked at the old man, whose face bore a strangely kind expression.
"Upset? How could I not be? Because of that hundred thousand yuan, my life is ruined. My wife and son have abandoned me. What’s the point of living? I might as well be dead!" Hong Bao shouted.
Old Shao chuckled lightly and said, "Who says your wife and son have abandoned you? How many years have you been married?"
"Almost thirty years," Hong Bao replied.
Old Shao nodded. "You work as a mechanic, right?"
"How do you know?" Hong Bao asked.
"Just look at your hands. There’s a lot of oil embedded in your skin. If you weren’t constantly working with oil, they wouldn’t look like that. Look at your shoes; do you see anything?" Old Shao pointed out.
Hong Bao glanced down at his shoes but couldn’t discern anything unusual.
"What’s wrong with my shoes?" he asked.
"Your shoes are clearly not washed by you," Old Shao laughed. "Your wife didn’t forget to clean your shoes when she went back to her parents' house. And look at your clothes; they’re all washed and neat. Do you really think your wife has abandoned you? What do you call misfortune? If this is misfortune for you, then what am I?"
It was only then that Hong Bao noticed his shoes and clothes were indeed spotless.
"Your wife went back to her family to figure things out," Old Shao said again. "Don't rush. If you die, you're leaving a mess for your wife and son. You still have family who love you. Look at me!"
"What's wrong with you?" Hong Bao shouted.
Old Shao turned around in place. His throat was a bit hoarse, but he shouted loudly, "I'm fifty-six this year. My wife died when I was thirty. I don't even have a child. You, you still have family. What do I have? When you reach my age, you'll understand that everything is fake; your family is the only real thing."
"Come down," Old Shao called out. "Go home and tidy up; your wife and kids will be back soon."
"Come down, don't seek death."
"Living is more important than anything else."
As Old Shao spoke, more and more people around began to persuade him.
Hong Bao climbed over the railing, realizing that the old man was right; he wasn't completely alone.
However, when Hong Bao descended, the old man had already vanished from sight.
At that moment, Old Shao was on a street.
Following closely behind him were several thugs—the same ones from the earlier livestream.
"Old man, are you tired of living? You should find out who I am and what my reputation is around here," one of the Tattooed Dragon Gang members blocked Old Shao's path.
Old Shao asked, "You guys are the loan sharks' enforcers, right? I noticed the red paint stains on your hands; you must be the ones who painted his wall."
"What's wrong with us, you old fool?" one of the thugs said. "It's only right to pay back debts; is that illegal?"
Old Shao shook his head. "If it exceeds four times the bank interest rate, then it's illegal. I don't know what your rates are, but I do know that with your current behavior, you're breaking the law."
"Then go ahead and arrest me, ha ha!" The group burst into laughter.
As expected, amidst their laughter, Director Wen arrived with the police.
Old Shao looked at the disheveled group. "You should have done your homework about who I am and what my reputation is in this area."
Director Wen chuckled. "Teacher, you're still as humorous as ever."
Old Shao laughed as well, but when he reached into his pocket, he pulled out a card instead.
"You can't leave now."
Old Shao's expression turned serious.
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