Madness ecstasy

The skinny man didn't turn around to follow Doudou's finger:

"Oh! That. Well, it's not easy for everyone. And it's summer, so I have extra money to treat them to soda."

Doudou pursed his lips and nodded seriously:

"Yeah, I think it's great that you did that!"

The man's eyes were hazy, as if out of focus. When he looked at Doudou, his line of sight seemed to intersect behind Doudou—and Doudou became increasingly certain that the man must be severely nearsighted.

"The adults in your family—"

Doudou didn't even listen to him:

"Why didn't you watch the workers moving the furniture? Aren't you afraid something might get broken?"

Once again interrupted, the skinny man began to wring his hands together:

"They're not worth much. I bought them secondhand at a flea market."

Doudou raised his hand and pointed at the cardboard box at the skinny man's feet:

"What about all these books and materials? How are you going to carry them by yourself? You're as thin as a skeleton. But I also like reading."

The cardboard box at the skinny man's feet was pressed tightly against his sneakers, and it was deformed and dented inward.

He turned slightly to the side, using his calf to block Doudou's view of the cardboard box:

"These books and materials are relatively light, so I can carry them myself. There's no need to trouble others."

Doudou suddenly narrowed his eyes and looked at him from side to side:

"Hmm-hmm. I'm not saying you have an ordinary face, but I always feel that you look a little familiar. Are you a celebrity? Are you experiencing life here or something?"

"Hey? I have a very good memory. I never forget anything I see. But why can't I remember who you are?"

Having a good memory is deceptive - but Doudou likes to brag about his memory.

The skinny man raised his hands and wiped his face:

"Hahaha, a celebrity? How is that possible? I just look ordinary."

Doudou tilted his head and thought for a while—suddenly shrugged:

"Well, I don't know. So, how about this for now? I'm going back to play games."

"Don't smoke in the elevator, okay? And don't litter."

He waved to his new neighbor. Without turning around, he continued to stare at the skinny man's withered face, backing away into the shadows woven by the setting sun and the apartment building.

"If you need any help, you can come to me."

With two clicks, Doudou closed both the screen door and the safety door.

-

How could someone walk back home like this? Young people these days are really getting weirder and weirder.

The skinny man bent down, picked up the cardboard box, and stood there in a daze. The air was filled with the smell of boiling peanut oil and dried chili powder. In a kitchen across the street from the community, someone was cooking fried fish.

But what caught the skinny man's attention was not the spicy aroma: the shining light on the metal handrail diagonally opposite him - it caught his sight directly.

He looked around, making especially careful efforts to make sure that no eyes were watching him from the corner; cautiously, he approached the flashing piece.

"what."

The skinny man coughed subconsciously and exclaimed:

It's not that the metal railings have been used for too long and have developed holes and deformation.

A complete handprint was left on the railing—not the trace of five fingers drawn by sweat and heat, but a clearly discernible indentation that was sunken inward, like a clay mold to be used for a plaster statue.

The mark at the perfect angle reflected a sharp and dazzling light from the twilight.

The skinny man stretched out his fingertips and poked the railing: it was hard, rough and scratchy due to rust, and warm from the remaining sunlight - naturally, this time it did not leave any marks.

He tucked the cardboard box under his armpit and covered the handprint with his palm: the skinny man's hand, which was not very broad and could even be called bony, was able to completely cover up the clear indentations of the fingers.

It was caught by the young neighbor I just met.

The skinny man turned around, ran down the hallway, and bumped into his own apartment, which hadn't closed.

Boom!

He pushed the security door hard, locked it, and then propped it up with his back.

After taking a deep breath, the skinny man opened the cardboard box and found a Walkman covered with scratches, fingerprints and signs of use.

He grabbed his Walkman, plugged in his tangled earphones, pressed play, and put it to his ear. A single, muffled whisper accompanied by a cacophony of noises played:

“The most dangerous place is the safest place.”

After that, there was only a crackling noise.

The skinny man sighed deeply, as if to squeeze out all the remaining air in his lungs. He stood on tiptoe and used his index finger to hook down the window slats of the blinds. Through the gap between them, he could see the dim light from the window pane of the next room.

“The most dangerous place is the safest place.”

He muttered and repeated it again.

Chapter 25 Worship

Tianhu Community, Building 5, Unit 2, 4th floor.

Richard stood there for a long time. If he smoked, he might have used up half a pack of cigarettes; but now he was only accompanied by his sweat-soaked shirt and the jacket on his shoulders.

From this angle, Richard could see the [Shouzhu 151] building under construction in the distance: Tianhu Community, although older, was also more desolate; compared to this newly sprouted bamboo shoot, the old residential buildings looked like the dandruff shed from the city.

He and John Dou hadn't come specifically for the job that ultimately cost their partner his life; they had come to address some obstacles hindering the construction of the [Shouzhu 151] building. But for field workers, emergency assignments always exceeded their original work schedule.

Work is hard, life is hard.

During the first lesson of their on-the-job training, the instructor warned Richard and his colleagues: "Embrace the loss of control. Loss of control is the only thing you can control."

It turns out that doing this is not as easy as just saying it.

The elevator's sliding door was tightly shut, attached to its edge by an iron chain and a large lock. The pale seal drooped and swayed in the wind; a dark stain spread across the elevator entrance, long since blending into the concrete floor.

Richard knew that this dark pool once carried the blood of two people: his partner and their [client]—

The bodies of both men remain in the custody of local law enforcement—but not for long. In a few days, the bodies of John Dou and [Client] will disappear from the registers and morgues and be returned to the Southeast Asian branch of the Asia-Europe Post for an autopsy.

No matter what, the deceased John Dou still completed part of the mission he was assigned; he brought the body of the defected [client] back to Asia-Europe Post.

Richard didn't know where to look.

He squatted down and wiped the rough, dark ground with his fingertips. The sand and dust were gone, and there was no more wet blood:

【John Dou died here.】

Richard turned around: This is an L-shaped corridor, longer vertically and shorter horizontally; the apartment doors are all on the right side of the corridor. Beyond the railing on the left is another new building under construction, dark green mesh and bright yellow scaffolding, blocking most of the view.

Every city is like a self-replicating, self-renewing monster. Perhaps soon, the concrete floor that Richard Chuck now stands on will also turn into fragments and stones.

"Well."

Richard let out a murmur that sounded like a sigh and discomfort: It would be more accurate to say that he came to pay his respects rather than to finally investigate the scene in person - as a sinner who could be put to practical use, John Dou would not have a tomb for future generations to remember him by.

In fact, he did not have any remaining social connections who would come to pay tribute to the dead souls except for his partner of several years: John Dou was also Richard's first partner.

[No. Those people in the lab might also light a few incense sticks as a token of appreciation when they dissect the body.]

Richard pulled a Hardman from his jacket breast pocket and squatted down gently. He didn't put the filter in his mouth, but instead held the cigarette between his fingertips, swirling the blue flame from the lighter around the dried tobacco.

Only non-smokers light their cigarettes in this way: but he had no intention of learning this short-lived habit.

When the smoke started to rise and dispersed with the air current, Richard lowered the Hardman and placed it in front of the diamond-shaped iron bars of the elevator door.

Richard paced along the long and narrow corridor - the layout reminded him of the dormitory he lived in during his induction training. However, there were only a few traces of people living here, which might be why law enforcement officers could not find any witnesses.

There are still some white marks on the yellowed wall: judging from the symmetry and position, these are the remnants of the torn off Spring Festival couplets.

There are cement marks that are brighter than the surrounding area, and smooth acrylic pipe covers; these are the signs of reopening the postal pipes that have not been used for a long time.

As Richard walked, he raised his fist and gently knocked on the rusty railing: thump, thump, thump, thump--

"Ok?"

He felt a strange sensation on his knuckles before noticing a small, odd spot on the railing.

The mark was clear, concave inward like an engraving, covering most of the metal railing; several slender marks surrounded an irregular circle.

That's a--

Handprint.

The metal railing is not plasticine or a pile of sand soaked in water: no matter how hard you grip and twist it, it will not leave such a clear mark.

unless

Richard bent his upper body and watched as his palm covered the handprint, completely covering it without leaving any gaps.

Judging from the distance between the front end of the wrist bone and the metacarpal bones, this mark is not very wide and should be the palm of a woman, a teenager or even a child.

【Could it be left by [the customer]? 】

Although Richard had not seen the palm print and fingerprint records of the [client's] body left in the police station; but she took John Dou away before she died - and she did not use a bullet, but some blunt instrument: as the rough man's partner, Richard knew his bare-handed combat and weapon skills.

Not to mention the difference in weight--

So even if there is no record in the file, the defected [client] may be a criminal or a patient.

[With such a high risk operation, the higher-ups sent us to handle it temporarily?]

Anger quietly emerged in my chest, but then retreated.

pat.

There was a faint sound. Richard didn't look up, just rolled his eyes slightly: out of the corner of his eye, he saw the window panes swaying up and down - from the new tenant who had just moved into the building.

It wasn't difficult to come to this conclusion. Before entering the building, Richard had been monitoring Tianhu Community for two days; he didn't dare enter until he was sure it was safe.

[Resident at home: "But his movements are very clumsy, likely untrained." As for the lone handprint on the railing, the possibility of someone with emotional obsessive-compulsive disorder cannot be ruled out."]

[Could it be his madness? ]

Richard wiped his handprint again, then stood up. He continued to knock on the iron pipe of the railing and paced slowly:

If your deduction is correct and there is a [patient] with aggressive tendencies around you, then it would be safer to continue pretending not to notice.

[Out of the pursuit of internalized control, yet unable to control it, representation does not require ritualistic behavior to arouse the alienation of mostly somatic organs.]

When he reached the end of the trail, Richard silently recalled the content of the company training.

[In other words—was there a third person present? Could it be this person? Not necessarily: the blinds weren't damaged at all; if it was the patient, then it would be impossible to control them.]

He shook his head slightly and turned around: I have to go back first, back to my safe house in Mong Cai City, and then continue to think about it.

"Hello."

The call seemed to come from nowhere: it was a delicate greeting, somewhere between a child's voice and a woman's.

Richard looked at the young man standing in front of him - he was wearing a bright yellow raincoat, with big and long eyes, and the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes were curled up like eyeliner; on his curved mouth, there was a canine tooth covering his lower lip.

He seemed to have appeared from nowhere, like a soap bubble bursting in reverse.

The boy didn't seem to have entered the voice change period yet, nor did he have a prominent Adam's apple - but somehow, he didn't look short.

He was - when did he start standing here? Richard was very sure that he did not hear any sound: and his trained hearing could distinguish the hidden codes in the radio station.

Is it thinking and inference that affects your attention to the surrounding environment?

The question interrupted Richard's daze:

"The cigarette at the entrance of the corridor—did you throw it away?"

The boy still grinned, his protruding fangs sparkling.

But Richard didn't think the other person was smiling, so Richard himself didn't know whether he should force a smile.

Memories that had been previously forgotten surfaced. A handwritten notice was found at the scene of John Dou and the [Client]'s death; but Richard did not connect it to the murder.

The paper said: [Please do not smoke in the elevator].

Yes, yes! It was me! It was just a cigarette offered as a memorial, like incense in a temple. My partner died there, due to some inexplicable mission and order, but I couldn't do anything for him—I could only give him a cigarette. Is this my fate too? You're still young, but you should understand—

Many thoughts emerged from the depths of Richard's mind, wandering and crawling along the grooves of his brain - he felt that he should grab the boy's shoulders and roar. After all, this was also the world that the other party would eventually experience in the near future.