Chapter 192: The Third Story

2022-05-20

Zhao Mingkun vanished into the darkness without looking back. I watched his silhouette fade into the night, still barely believing that we’d crossed paths again so soon. Even more unbelievable was the strange impulse that led me to strike such a deal with Zhao Mingkun.

Team Leader Shao had made up his mind to arrest Zhao Mingkun—for his own sake, but more for Yang Xiaojun. Guan Zengbin had chosen this career mostly because of Yang Xiaojun too. If I told Team Leader Shao or Guan Zengbin about any of this, Zhao Mingkun would be caught without a doubt. But if I kept my mouth shut, we’d lose the best shot we had at capturing him.

I couldn’t explain it, but I always had this odd feeling—like there was some kind of tie between Zhao Mingkun and me. Maybe it was his suspicious, guarded nature, or how he always hid his true thoughts, choosing instead to speak in riddles that kept everyone guessing.

Maybe that old man in Area A was right. Deep down, maybe we’re all the same. We don’t really trust anyone, yet still act friendly for appearance’s sake. Just like Zhao Mingkun said, maybe people like us are destined for an unremarkable end. Sometimes, I even find myself growing tired of who I am.

But curiosity is a part of us the minute we’re born. After twenty years, I still want to know who my parents are, whether they’re alive or dead. I want to know, too, whether my mother felt the slightest bit of sorrow when she abandoned me.

I shook my head, trying to chase off these thoughts. There’s not even a hint of an answer yet, so it’s pointless to dwell.

Maybe some of us are just born to be alone. Maybe we’re the ones God turned his back on.

When I got back, it was already late but the lights were bright and the place was still buzzing with activity. I’d barely stepped inside the hall when someone called to me from a distance: “Wu Meng, Captain Wu, they’re already meeting inside, waiting on you. They said to tell you the moment you got back.”

I nodded and hurried toward the meeting room, sneaking a glance at my phone—no new calls.

Pushing open the door, I saw the room was already full. Team Leader Shao and Team Leader Li sat at the front, everyone else in two neat rows, all quietly reading their files. Both teams were here, all except Xiao Liu.

Team Leader Shao waved at me. “Have a seat. I heard from Gu Chen you were out handling something. Did you finish up?”

I nodded.

“Alright, then let’s not wait for Xiao Liu,” Team Leader Shao said.

I jumped in. “Where’s Xiao Liu?”

“Said he was following up on the victim’s details,” one of Team Leader Li’s burly teammates replied. “He told us to start without him—he’s not coming back.”

Mary rapped her knuckles on the table to reel our attention in, then tossed me a file. “The third story.”

You can feel it coming. Whenever the third story shows up, you know the killer’s about to act again. It’s hard not to feel helpless—you’re reading the story, and at the same time you know the killer is already putting the next murder in motion. There’s just nothing you can do to stop it.

Everyone went quiet, reading through this third murder story.

I opened the file. Someone had already marked it up with red pen, clearly giving it a thorough read before passing it on. Here’s how the third story went:

Strictly speaking, I’m not really a good person. I’m just a regular worker, plugging away on the assembly line, doing the same thing over and over, year after year—assembling phones. To be honest, I’ve made a decent living by now, but it’s never been much.

This job is as dull as it gets. I doubt you could find something more boring. After just a single day, you’re already sick of it. Standing on the shop floor, I can’t even remember how long I’ve had this job—twenty years, maybe?

But this is the life I signed up for at eighteen—stuck in an endless loop. The work never changes: pick up the phone casing, fit it together with the phone. No special skills, just a five-minute training, and you’re good. Heck, it takes four minutes just to pull on the work uniform.

From your very first shift, you can already picture what your last day before retirement will look like. Just assembling, endlessly assembling. Phones keep evolving, but the job stays exactly the same. Even if I lost my sight, I could still do it.

Today, the willow outside my window just sprouted its new leaves. I counted them—three thousand two hundred fifty-one branches in total. Today, Mrs. Li at the far end mentioned for the thirty-second time how her son can’t seem to measure up. Today, the supervisor only made nine rounds, down one from yesterday.

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to hurt someone. Like I said, I’m not a good person by any strict measure.

Sometimes I daydream—what if the next second, someone gets pulled into the machinery? We’d all be drenched in blood, people screaming and tearing through the factory in a panic.

Or I imagine the widow across the hall. Her husband’s been dead five years, and every day a different man leaves her apartment. Maybe tonight, she’ll kick down my door and charge in.

Or that noisy little kid who’s always outside at five in the morning, making a racket. He’s six, not even in school yet. Do his parents just not care or are they gone? Maybe, next time I head out, I’ll see the kid fall from a window, by accident, of course.

But nothing ever happens. Everything stays flat and ordinary, day in and day out.

My life seems so much longer than other people’s, yet so much shorter, too. I like watching movies. If it’s comedy, I laugh along with the characters. If it’s a tragedy, I cry with them. If it’s horror, I shiver just like them.

Still, deep down, it always feels like there’s something missing.

Nothing ever happens. Just another ordinary day.

When I get home, there’s nothing. The place is empty, cold—just me.

My wife and I divorced five years ago. No kids.

We’d been married a long time. Looking back, we got married ten years into this job. Back then, it was a golden gig—good pay, steady work. It got me this apartment. Now, twenty years on, the only thing I have left is this place.

“Old Wang, back already? My kitchen pipe’s acting up. Can you take a look?” A middle-aged woman was chatting at the complex gate, but when she saw me, she hurried over to ask.

I nodded.

“Hey, isn’t that Xiao Wang? Come here, Xiao Wang. My relatives just sent a big box of local specialties, but my arms and legs aren’t what they used to be. Could you help me bring it upstairs later?” An old man was bent over a game of chess. I used to love chess, but I can’t remember the last time I played.

“Uncle Wang, Uncle Wang!” A bunch of kids crowded around me. “We want candy! Give us candy!”

“Just got out of school, huh?” I said with a smile.

“Candy! Candy!” The kids cheered.

I had no choice. I dug through my pockets, only finding a single fifty-yuan bill. One of the kids jumped up, snatched the bill, and dashed off, yelling, “Let’s go buy candy! Candy for everyone!”

The adults in the complex burst out laughing, their voices echoing as I climbed the stairs.

It all felt hollow. I wasn’t sure I cared about living anymore.

I fixed the woman’s pipe. It was all clogged up with hair. As I left, her family was sitting down to eat. Heading downstairs, I swung by the old man still playing chess and dropped off his box as promised. He asked me to just leave it at the door—he wanted to finish his game before coming in.

The kids were still outside playing. I heard one saying, “Didn’t you say you wanted to ask for a red bill? Why’d you only grab fifty? The new Yasuo skin costs sixty. I can’t afford it now.”

Another kid replied, “You’re clueless. We’ll just ask him again tomorrow. He’ll definitely give us more.”

“Really?” one of them sounded skeptical. Fifty yuan was a lot of money to them.

The other kid nodded seriously. “Of course! My mom told me. She said Uncle Wang is a fool—does whatever people tell him. He’s just too nice for his own good. Can’t you see all the neighbors just boss him around? They could pay someone to do those chores, but they just refuse to spend.

The skeptical one finally nodded. “So that’s how it is? So he’s really just a fool? But how come a fool has so much money?”

“No idea. Maybe good things happen to simple people,” another kid replied. “Forget about him. I’m asking for more money tomorrow. By the way, what does that EQ Combo mean, anyway…”

At that point, I couldn’t make sense of the kids’ chatter anymore.

My apartment was dark, all the lights off. I couldn’t sleep. Not sure when it started, but I just can’t sleep at night anymore.

What was the rope in my hand for, anyway?

I climbed up onto the chair and tied the rope to the drying rack on the balcony.

A loud thud—the chair toppled to the floor.

What was that sound?