Zwilling

Kapitel 36

Can you forgive me?

sorry……

This was An Ruohong's last bit of consciousness.

The next day, the downstairs resident noticed water dripping from the bathroom ceiling. They went upstairs and knocked on the door, but it remained closed for a long time. Sensing something was wrong, they quickly notified the neighborhood committee, who then called 110 (the police emergency number).

The cause of death was drowning.

The autopsy report included the following text written by the forensic pathologist:

"Every bone and organ of the deceased was soaked in water. When you cut open the blood vessels, what gushed out of the arteries and veins was not blood, but water, clear water."

"The deceased weighed 54 kilograms before his death, and now he weighs 110 kilograms, which is twice the weight of his previous weight."

"A body like this, if it had been soaking in seawater for half a month, might be somewhat plausible, but the fact that it happened in a bathtub, and only for one night, is truly unbelievable."

Finally, the forensic expert used two concise words to describe An Ruohong's body:

Jellyfish.

In the morning, at Dehao Noodle Shop located at the intersection of Chongqing Road and Jianguo Road, Hong Bentao sat by the window, his eyes still wet with sleep, slowly eating a bowl of beef noodles, staring blankly at the traffic outside. With the surge in private cars, traffic jams have started earlier, from 9 a.m. to 8 a.m. or even earlier. Shanghai's roads have few dedicated bus lanes, and all kinds of vehicles are mixed together, creating a traffic jam with a distinctly Shanghai flavor.

He usually takes half an hour to eat this breakfast, and then he rides his bicycle to Pizza Hut for work.

While others rush to work in the morning like soldiers on a forced march, Hong Bentao is leisurely because he wakes up early, around five o'clock every morning, and then he can't fall back asleep.

Because I want to Zoe.

The two were busy with their own things, and rarely had the chance to eat lunch together. Dinner was also uncertain, as their off-get off work hours were unpredictable. The only thing they could guarantee was breakfast together. They would eat and chat. Hong Bentao usually drank a glass of milk and added a slice of Australian cheese between two slices of bread. Zoe told him that too much cheese wasn't good for him, and secretly replaced it with peanut butter. Gradually, Hong Bentao got used to it. Zoe liked Chinese breakfast: vegetable buns, meat buns, red bean buns, steamed rolls, egg pancakes, and a bowl of congee with minced meat and preserved egg. She changed the menu every day. Because they lived near the Nonggongshang Supermarket, Zoe asked Aunt Song to buy the food a day in advance and put it in the refrigerator. In the morning, she would just steam it and it would be ready to eat quickly. After finishing his own portion, Hong Bentao, seeing Zoe's dazzling array of breakfasts, couldn't resist trying some too, so Aunt Song bought more.

Breakfasts like that are gone forever.

Due to business pressures, Hong Bentao's sexual ability had declined significantly. He believed he had premature ejaculation. Zoe gently told him, "It's okay, I don't care about the duration, as long as it goes in, it feels good." But to the proud Hong Bentao, this was merely a comforting reassurance.

Strangely, the problem disappeared after he slept with An Ruohong.

Honestly, aside from her breasts being slightly larger than Zoe's, An Ruohong couldn't compare to Zoe in any other way (including her temperament). He disliked this woman in many ways. For example, after sex, Zoe would tell him to rest and wouldn't speak to him, at most gently stroking his hair; An Ruohong, however, would talk incessantly, and when he ignored her and looked tired, she would nudge him awake, saying, "Hey, did you hear me?" and then repeat what she had said. It was unbelievable! Didn't she know that men need rest after sex?

After each sexual encounter, his first thought was to break up with her. But after a few days, he couldn't help but think about An Ruohong's body again, becoming addicted like a drug addict. He looked forward to getting tired of her body soon, so that he could justifiably break up with her.

He still can't understand Zoe's fall. One possibility he can think of is that a beautiful butterfly flew by the balcony, and Zoe leaned out to catch it, leaning too far forward and falling...

He also felt that this hypothesis was too far-fetched, after all, Zoe wasn't a six or seven-year-old girl. But apart from that, he really couldn't think of any other reason for her falling.

Suicide? That's absolutely impossible.

He had thought of An Ruohong, but didn't think about it any further. An Ruohong had told him with certainty that from that night until noon the next day, she had been sleeping at home with a terrible headache. She had taken two Tylenol tablets and was in a daze, which made her late for work.

He believed An Ruohong and his own judgment: no matter how good An Ruohong was in bed, she couldn't possibly lift a person weighing over 100 pounds off the balcony.

The noodle shop was getting busier and busier, and the waiters were getting increasingly anxious, hoping Hong Bentao would vacate his seat soon so the shop could make a little more business during the morning rush. Hong Bentao realized this, put down his bowl of noodles, wiped his mouth, and left.

He pushed his bicycle from west to east across Chongqing Road, then rode north. The ride would take about twenty minutes, and he had enough time to get to work at 8:30.

He rode along Chongqing Road, with the Second Medical University just ahead. The university's dormitory area and teaching area are divided in two by Chongqing Road, with the dormitory area to the east and the teaching area to the west. A pedestrian overpass spans the middle, and every day you can see a large number of medical students in school uniforms or white coats crossing the overpass to avoid Chongqing Road, which has four lanes for motor vehicles.

Every time Hong Bentao passed by this place, he would remember that Zoe had brought him here when he was pursuing her. Zoe had graduated from the Department of Stomatology at the Second Medical University, and this was her alma mater. She would show him around, telling him anecdotes and interesting stories from her student days. She would talk incessantly, and a woman's incessant chatter could be seen as a sign of trust in a man. Hong Bentao seemed to listen half-heartedly, a smile on his face. They left the western teaching area and walked onto the overpass. The north-south elevated road ran across the overpass, intersecting it in a cross shape. At its closest point, the road was only a little over a meter apart. Because of this enormous structure overhead, this section of the road was rather dark. Suddenly, Hong Bentao grabbed Zoe and kissed her. Zoe offered only weak resistance before being conquered by his passionate kiss. Hong Bentao took two steps forward, and Zoe's back could only lean against the overpass railing. Their kiss grew more and more intense, their tongues joining in, while the sound of rolling wheels came from above.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Chapter 93: This was their first kiss.

As Hong Bentao cycled, he recalled that passionate kiss that he still couldn't forget. That's how kisses are; they don't feel that special at the time, but the longer time passes, the more flavorful they become.

He glanced up instinctively and saw a woman standing on the overpass, looking down at the non-motorized vehicle lane as if waiting for someone. She was wearing an A-line skirt, wedge heels, and a plaid blazer, dressed quite stylishly, with a short ponytail...

How come she looks like Zoe?

Zoe was wearing this outfit when she had her first kiss.

Hong Bentao froze. He started looking when he was still 30 meters away from the overpass, and as he got closer, he raised his head higher and higher...

It really was Zoe. She looked down at Hong Bentao, expressionless, her eyes wet, tears streaming down her cheeks, falling at the speed of freefall. That's how Zoe had fallen from the building before...

Hong Bentao felt a tingling sound on his forehead, as if a drop of water had been dripped on him. At that moment, his bicycle had reached the bottom of the overpass and entered a blind spot, so he could no longer see Zoe when he looked up.

What on earth is going on? Is it just my imagination?

I should pull my bicycle over to the side of the road, walk onto the overpass, and take a good look.

Beep beep! A car horn suddenly sounded from behind.

...

Afterwards, the driver of the "Tunnel Line 8" air-conditioned bus told the traffic police the following:

I was driving normally in the motor vehicle lane at 60 km/h. This cyclist was in the non-motor vehicle lane, moving very slowly, and looking up at the pedestrian overpass. I looked up too; the overpass was empty, not a soul in sight. Just as my bus was about to overtake him, his bicycle reached the bottom of the overpass and suddenly veered into the outer motor vehicle lane. I quickly braked and turned the steering wheel to the outside, only to crash into the green median barrier.

These emergency measures were subconscious actions taken by the driver after hitting the cyclist.

There was a loud thud, and the person was airborne in a very special, even graceful, posture—a side backflip, spinning 720 degrees in the air before landing heavily, reminiscent of Li Ning, who won four gymnastics gold medals at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics.

Oh no! Someone's dead!

The driver got out to check. The man's body had been run over by the wheels, but he was still conscious, staring at the driver and muttering something unintelligible, seemingly in English, "...Z...O...E..." Could he be a foreigner? An American? An Australian? Foreigners' lives are worth more than Chinese lives. Sigh, what bad luck!

Thinking about it, large beads of sweat rolled down the driver's forehead. He looked up at the overpass again, where a group of people had gathered, clinging to the railings and watching the commotion below, pointing and discussing. Passengers in the bus also craned their necks to look.

The driver was extremely frustrated and took out his phone to dial 110. The "Tunnel Line 8" bus was lying across both motor vehicle lanes, completely blocking traffic from south to north on Chongqing Road. Only the non-motorized vehicle lane was relatively clear, but passing cyclists stopped to watch. Soon, both the motor vehicle lanes and the non-motorized vehicle lanes were crowded with people and vehicles. The sounds of car horns, bicycle bells, electric bicycle bells, curses, complaints, and shouts of "Get out of the way!" were deafening.

For a megacity with 17 million people, 9 million bicycles and electric bikes, and over 1 million motor vehicles, this is just one of hundreds of traffic accidents, big and small, that happen every day. It's nothing special, really, and not worth making a fuss about.

Woof woof woof!

Biff, who had just woken up from his nap, had somehow slipped into the bathroom and barked a few times, drawing everyone over. Looking at the wall, they saw that "Zoe on the Windowsill" had disappeared. It was now empty, with no windowsill, no examination room, and no dentist wearing a mask. To be precise, it had become a white canvas, a somber white, not the glaring white of midnight. This was exactly what everyone expected.

From then on, every year during the Qingming Festival and the Winter Solstice, these two traditional Chinese "ghost festivals," Nuonuo's family would hang such a painting. Apart from a frame and a white canvas, there was nothing else. Unsuspecting people might mistake it for some kind of abstract art. For example, the painting might depict a cow eating a pile of grass. The cow would eat all the grass and then leave, leaving nothing on the painting.

Zeng Men created an oil painting called "Naked Zoe," in which a naked woman sits on the windowsill of a dental clinic, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. Many galleries and customers were interested in buying the painting, driving the price up to over two hundred thousand yuan. This was a considerable sum for Zeng Men, whose art career had been struggling. Zeng Men smiled and simply stated that the painting held special value for him and would not be sold, never.

Later, someone saw Zeng Men on the street, holding a cell phone that he called "modern civilized garbage," and talking on the phone.

Ah Hu painstakingly lost five kilograms and a quarter of his hair, finally completing another invention: super underwear with sound-absorbing and odor-absorbing functions. He contacted DuPont to market the fabric, hoping it would become as popular as LYCRA, used in all underwear. DuPont's response left Ah Hu frustrated:

"Farting is a natural physiological response. Your invention stifles human nature and is unacceptable. You can keep this super underwear for yourself."

Fortunately, while one door closes, another opens. One of Ah Hu's old inventions—a ghost energy index measuring device—was unexpectedly taken a liking to by a Wenzhou businessman who exported lighters. Small-batch production began, and the device was sold exclusively online for $29.99 each, surprisingly becoming a bestseller. It's said that in the US, consumers had to wait at least three weeks to buy one, and some online sellers were reselling it for over $50. With a hefty patent transfer fee, Ah Hu finally became a millionaire, buying a Porsche convertible and driving around Shanghai with a different girl every week, like an American soldier driving a tank through Iraq. The fantasies he had when he sat at the pistol-shaped entrance of the Starbucks on Zhaojiabang Road, drooling over the pretty girls passing by in the glass window, had largely come true.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 94: The Intersection of Different Dimensions and Three-Dimensional Space

At the end of November, Yu Linle successfully gave birth to a baby at the Nanshi Maternal and Child Health Hospital, commonly known as the "Red House Hospital," much to the relief of her husband, in-laws, and Yu Linle's parents who had been waiting for her. However, they were all very surprised because the prenatal ultrasound showed it was a boy, so their preparations were based on the expectation of a male fetus. They never expected that she would give birth to a girl, weighing 2700 grams.

"A good girl, a good girl!" the in-laws said to Yu Linle's parents with a beaming smile. "A girl is considerate, a girl is family-oriented, and a girl won't cause trouble!"

Yu Linle's parents had two daughters before and longed for a grandson, so this outcome was somewhat disappointing. Therefore, her in-laws tried their best to comfort her. To be honest, having a son, they genuinely wished for a granddaughter.

Inside the temperature-controlled incubator, the baby lay, its body flushed red, its wet lanugo clinging to its tiny head, eyes closed in peaceful sleep, its tiny fingers twitching slightly. Yu Linle's husband, a first-time father, was moved to tears, and his parents were overjoyed, beaming from ear to ear. Only Yu Linle's parents, the elderly couple, exchanged surprised glances, silently repeating the same thought in their hearts:

"This child looks a lot like Yinyin!"

Yinyin is the nickname of Yu Linyin---Zoe.

When the baby turned one month old, Yu Linle said something to her husband that made him re-evaluate the infant.

"The original plan was a C-section, but it was brought forward, and I gave birth naturally all of a sudden. When the baby was successfully delivered, I was exhausted. I closed my eyes and heard someone calling my name. The voice sounded familiar. I opened my eyes and saw my sister. She was in the delivery room, standing behind the midwife, looking at me and smiling..."

On the eve of Christmas, Nono received a notice from her company that they were opening a store in Nanjing and needed to train new employees. The store manager of the Starbucks Zhaojiabang Road store went to Nanjing and took Nono with him. They would stay in Nanjing for at least three months to train the newly recruited staff and teach them how to make coffee according to Starbucks standards.

Nono has developed a habit of visiting local temples to burn incense whenever she goes to a new place. The most famous temple in Nanjing is Linggu Temple, located on Zhongshan Mountain, but it is quite a distance from the city center. Nono's work schedule is packed every day, so she simply doesn't have the time. Therefore, she chose Jiming Temple, which is closer to the city.

Jiming Temple was first built in 300 AD during the Eastern Jin Dynasty. It is said that Emperor Wu of Liang often hid here. It was the foremost of the 480 temples in the Southern Dynasties. During the Southern Tang Dynasty, it was called Jingju Temple. During the Song Dynasty, it was called Fabao Temple. It was renamed Jiming Temple in the Ming Dynasty. It was destroyed by fire during the Cultural Revolution in 1973. It was rebuilt in 1981. In 1984, a five-ton bronze statue of Shakyamuni Buddha, a gift from Thailand, was enshrined. In 1989, the Medicine Buddha Pagoda was built, which is nearly 50 meters high and has become a major landmark in the old city of Nanjing.

After burning incense in the main hall and kowtowing to Guanyin and Buddha, Nuonuo bought a ticket for five yuan and climbed the six-story pagoda. It was almost noon, and there were few tourists. Two ticket collectors sat at the entrance of the pagoda, with their leftover lunch boxes spread out in front of them, chatting in Nanjing dialect that Nuonuo couldn't understand.

She climbed up the tower, floor by floor. There wasn't a single tourist inside. The stairs were narrow, each floor a circle, barely a few square meters in area. With each floor, the space shrank, and each had a small observation deck, like a balcony, just big enough for one person to stand on. From the top, she could see the shimmering Xuanwu Lake, with the old city wall of Xuanwu Gate surrounding the lake. Nono took out her Sony digital camera and snapped a few photos, intending to email them back to her mother. Reaching the top, she felt a little tired, so she leaned against the tower and sat down.

Suddenly, a soft voice came from behind, but it was exceptionally clear in the silent tower:

"Nono."

Nono was stunned. Was someone behind her?

When I went up the tower, I was the only one there.

And this person knows my name...

"Nono."

The second time I called her, the voice sounded increasingly familiar; it was the same voice I heard outside the tent watching Mars atop Purple Mountain.

Nuonuo felt as if she had been whipped in the heart. Deep in her memory, that voice could never be erased; it belonged to her father, Qiao Ming.

"Dad...is it really...you?"

"yes."

That's how the voice answered.

What are you standing there for? Turn around right now!

Turning your head is just a simple movement of the neck muscles, but in that instant, the muscles are restrained by a greater force, and the neck freezes.

This power came from her mind. She recalled the game "The Trolls," where in a desolate place, if someone calls your name from behind, no matter who they are, whether you know them or not, you must never turn around. The trolls mimic all kinds of voices, especially those of your loved ones. If you turn around even slightly, the trolls will pounce and bite off your head.

Nono held on; she didn't turn around, even though she desperately wanted to see her father.

The voice sighed softly and said, "Dad knows what you're worried about. Never mind, you don't need to turn back. Dad has a few words to say to you, and I'll leave after I'm done. You can just stand there and listen."

"Yes, go ahead and say it," Nono replied, her voice trembling.

After a pause, the voice continued, "Dad knows you've been very busy lately and have done a lot of things. Dad is so happy because you've grown up and are no longer the little girl who used to whine and pester Dad to buy Barbie dolls every day."

"Dad also wants to thank you. Because of that, Dad can die in peace."

...Does "that matter" refer to Lu Yaodong?

"Dad, do you and that Zoe...do you know each other?" Nono asked the voice.

The voice gave a wry laugh.

Oil painting No. 51: 773 Horror Series 13

Section 95: We know each other after death.

...After death?