Unable to breathe

Chapter 34

The crowd laughed even harder.

His leg was broken, and the doctor said the sooner it was treated, the better. But when he begged you for help, you were indifferent and numb, showing no reaction whatsoever!

The short man seemed to be asking himself, "What does his broken leg have to do with me? He's not my son, why should I care?"

The woman said, "You're unbelievable! You're despicable!"

The man said to himself, "I just wanted to watch the show. How did you know I was immoral? You have sharp eyes; you even noticed I'm a scoundrel and immoral!"

The person was already badly injured; how can someone your age act like a child? I begged you to call the police, but you pretended not to hear! And you said you were just watching the show? Do you have any humanity?

He looked at her with delight, stared at her brazenly, and blurted out, "Next time I run into her, I'll definitely help her out."

You don't need to gloat! What if something like this happens to you in the future?

I can't afford a car. I can get into other things, but I can't afford to drive a BMW up a tree.

Everyone burst into laughter again.

The streetlight crew arrived, the woman paid them a sum of money, and they removed the damaged lamppost and loaded it onto their vehicle.

Before the traffic police tow truck towed away the wrecked BMW, someone overheard the young officer say, "This guy's really rich." The older officer asked, "Why?" The young officer replied, "Look at those two cigars he threw out of the car! Each one costs several hundred yuan!" The older officer asked, "Have you ever smoked them?" The young officer said, "Me? Could I afford them? I only saw people smoking them at nightclubs! Didn't you see? That woman's phone cost over six thousand yuan!"

The BMW was towed away, and the short man got on his bicycle and rode off, swaying his head.

Before heading home, the short man stopped by the convenience store, pulled out 20 yuan, bought a bottle of beer, pocketed the change, locked his bike against the wall, and swaggered away. As he went upstairs, he hummed a few lines of a song the children couldn't understand: "Socialism is good, socialism is good, the people of socialist countries have high status..."

The short man came home and told his wife, "I was riding my bike on the sidewalk when someone honked behind me, scaring me half to death. Then a car came up behind me, almost throwing me against the wall, getting me covered in mud and water, and yelling at me, 'Are you fucking deaf?! Didn't you hear me honking like that?! Are you looking for trouble?!'" I mentally yelled back, "You're driving on the sidewalk and you're swearing at me? Are you even human?!" He replied, "Look at you! Who said my bike can't be on the sidewalk? It's none of your business! If I see you again, I'll run you over!" The rich treat the poor like dogs. Heaven has eyes, evil has its retribution. I went over and was overjoyed—karma! The guy who yelled at me had crashed into a tree and was grumbling, "I'll give you 10 yuan, go call the police for me." When I didn't say anything, he said he'd give me 20 yuan. I was secretly delighted, overjoyed, but I didn't want him to know. He said, "I'll give you 20 yuan, that's all, no more. You're too greedy. Money is a good thing, but I won't make the phone call."

My wife said that the people collecting water, electricity, sanitation, and gas fees have come again, and they're saying that if we don't pay, they'll cut off our water, electricity, and gas.

His face immediately turned pale, he swallowed twice, his eyes bulged, and he couldn't speak.

"The phone bill and cable TV bill are due," my wife said again.

"We're almost out of food and oil. What are we going to eat if we don't buy some?" his wife asked him.

He was the head of the household, but he had nothing to do and couldn't afford to support his family. So he had no choice but to give his wife the 18 yuan he had saved.

He originally wanted to go home, have a beer, and have some fun, but now even the beer doesn't taste good. He's always looking for something to do, some work. Stealing is definitely out of the question, and robbing is even worse; he knows the consequences of stealing and robbing. So many people younger, more educated, and more capable than him are idle; how can he find work? How many idle people are around here, upstairs, downstairs, in front of, and behind? They're always gathered together playing cards and mahjong. No work, no money; no money, no food, no clothes. You can only smell others eating and drinking well, watch them wearing gold and silver. In the morning, he's afraid his wife will ask him what he's eating; at night, he's afraid she'll ask him how he'll manage tomorrow. He knows what other people eat, he knows how others manage, but he doesn't know what to do with himself. Some people get subsidies because they're laid-off workers; some get welfare because they're unemployed. What will he get? Because he's social scum. The problem is that even the scum of society have mouths and can't stand not having enough to eat. They also want to dress smartly and get ahead. They also want to survive and live a good life.

Life without purpose is tasteless. If he hasn't eaten enough during the day, he'll lie at home and sleep. If he has a full stomach, he'll ride his bike to the park to practice kicking and boxing. He goes wherever there are few people and no one around.

After sleeping enough during the day, riding his bike around in the dark at night was a kind of enjoyment for him. No one cared about him in the dark, and of course, no one knew he was poor or a social outcast, let alone whether he was well-fed or dressed in designer brands. Naturally, no one looked down on him. Walking in the dark, he could freely observe the women and men he saw. He could see through the shady dealings of those disreputable men and women. He could freely caress the faces, figures, and breasts of those women in his mind, imagining what kind of interesting stories he would have with them.

Once he walks in the darkness of night, he is not only unafraid of all strangers, but he is also proud that they are all afraid of him.

He knew that all men and women were afraid of the dark; they disliked walking in the dark. Only he liked the darkness that everyone else feared, because in the dark he could sense and manipulate men and women's fear of the dark. He could see and exploit their weakness and unpreparedness in the dark. People who fell asleep in the dark were as easy to manipulate as babies.

Only in darkness can he live happily, only in darkness can he have the power to control life and death, only in darkness can he unleash his omnipotent power and become the king who rules this city.

When humans were still animals, they were certainly nocturnal and didn't fear the dark. Once humans evolved from animals, they became nocturnal and diurnal. At night, when humans rest and recuperate, their physical strength and energy are at their lowest, making them the weakest and most helpless, and thus they develop a fear of the darkness.

Psychologists have conducted experiments showing that even in broad daylight, blindfolding a person will cause anxiety and fear; the mere darkness induces fear. Why do people fear all darkness? Because they cannot foresee the dangers hidden in the dark, nor are they capable of overcoming them, so they always assume there must be hidden dangers in the dark.

Only wild animals are nocturnal, prefer to hunt in the darkness, and feel especially safe in the dark.

He liked to ride his bike slowly on roads with varying degrees of light and shadow. Later, he told a policeman, "My eyes are perfect for being a policeman! I can tell whether a woman is respectable or not with just one glance." Since he'd never been a policeman, he assumed that policemen did that kind of thing. If that were the case, being a policeman would be too easy.

The short man, who had never been a policeman, imagined patrolling and observing every young woman who walked by, especially when he saw a man and woman walking together. He would look at them more closely, trying to find clues about their dealings. In his view, whenever a man and a woman were together, there must be something shady going on. Otherwise, why would they be together? How could a man and a woman be honest when they were together? How could they not be thinking about *that* kind of thing? Which woman is a good person? How many decent women are there these days? If you pay attention, you can always find single women, or rather, single women walking around. He likes to see them, observe them, and guess their intentions. Just a glance, a gesture, even the way they walk or the way their hips sway, can allow him to judge their indecent behavior and their flirtatiousness.

In early summer, the streets of this heroic city are filled with the enticing aroma of smoky mutton. In previous years, you would see beautiful women eating kebabs everywhere. This year, although there are far fewer men and women eating mutton kebabs than in previous years, those grilling mutton kebabs are neither afraid of death nor need to be. There have been no reports of anyone being killed while grilling mutton kebabs. They have neither much money nor much meat on their bodies, so they are not worth killing. Therefore, they are still busy grilling kebabs to attract customers. After all, people die for money and birds die for food.

A small man, seemingly radiating vitality in the darkness, approached a tiny roadside stall—the kind where a makeshift stove and dirty table are set up under a streetlamp. If the city management officers come, he runs; if he can't escape, he accepts the punishment and pays them a fine to get his stove and table back. He shuffled over to the stall, first making sure there were no suspicious people around, then parking his bike against the wall. He then lingered on the waitress's chest and buttocks, his eyes lingering on her before slowly approaching, his face flushed, and demanding two lamb skewers. He only wanted one, but was afraid of being looked down upon; he knew how the skewer vendors would look at him. He also ordered two bottles of beer. After finishing the lamb skewers and the beer, he continued to scrutinize the waitress's expression. Seeing no displeasure on her face, he finally felt relieved and squatted down on the roadside to wait. In reality, he could barely drink one bottle of beer before losing his sense of self and wanting to reach out and touch the waitress's buttocks. However, once he drank two bottles of beer, he would regain his sense of self and think that he was the master of the city, able to touch all the women he liked.

A man who aspires to be in a leadership position dislikes sitting across from others while drinking. He dislikes being looked at, fears people getting too close, and is afraid of hearing their voices. He reached out and took the grilled lamb skewers, nodding and saying thank you twice. Finding a dimly lit spot, he sat on the curb with two bottles of beer, savoring every bit of meat and seasoning on the skewers, eating them with gusto—the kind of lamb he hadn't had in days. He wanted to taste every single shred of meat and every seasoning on the bamboo skewer, savoring every flavor. After all, even his mother couldn't eat these skewers now; he was eating them for the whole family. How could he not be meticulous? As for the beer, he didn't appreciate its flavor like a rich man. He only drank it because he'd read about it in martial arts novels—alcohol emboldens heroes. So, drinking wasn't about the taste, but about using this horse-piss-like substance to swell and enlarge his courage.

Alcohol breeds wickedness, but it also breeds wickedness. After he has drunk two bottles of beer without a drop left, and after he has drunk an ounce or two of liquor, when his head is already spinning, he will feel as light as a feather, with inexhaustible strength in his legs, feet, and hands. And his courage, soaked in alcohol and evil, will grow so large that it will make this heroic city tremble and weep in the middle of the night.

Everyone experiences fear, but each person's fears differ. As the battle-hardened American General Patton said, "If courage is simply being fearless, then I have never seen a truly courageous person." Everyone has fears, and the wiser a person is, the more they understand fear. The true warrior is one who, despite having fear, can drive themselves forward with unwavering courage.

On-site: Only those who are fearless will find a path ahead.

Wang Liguo later told me, "When I figured it out, I was shocked. The third time he broke into the house, the victim had three clubs and three hearts in front of him. The fourth time, however, he had four clubs and four hearts. Was he using them to count? Would he use five clubs and five hearts next time? Just thinking about it made my head spin. It's a life-or-death situation now. If another person dies and the case isn't solved, I can forget about ever wearing a police uniform again. Never."

Every day, Wang Liguo listened to reports from the more than seventy members of the special task force on their investigations, and then discussed the next steps with them. Afterward, he would report to the bureau chief, who had personally come to the brigade, and discuss the next steps with him. This on-site investigation further convinced him that the characteristics they had summarized were sufficient to pinpoint the killer. The reason there was no progress was definitely due to someone's inadequate work; otherwise, how could they not find the killer? He wondered what method could be foolproof? What method could be used to force the killer out? What method could be used to turn the tables? After much thought, he concluded that the investigators had to do two things: they must meet with the person matching the killer's characteristics, and they must go to their home to understand the situation. He instructed his subordinates to continue the investigation while also recalling those who had already matched the criteria. He demanded that anyone he ruled out provide sufficient reasons for their rejection.

Sometimes he would think optimistically: the entire city's police force was being mobilized for the investigation, an unprecedented scale in history. Could the killer be completely unaware? Could he remain completely indifferent? If not, wouldn't he react? A psychopath's reaction would certainly be different from that of an ordinary person; he might even make an extraordinary reaction. If we could discover and seize the opportunity in time, it might be our chance to solve the case.

Sometimes he was certain this opportunity would come, and other times he felt it was extremely unlikely.

Although He Fangmei was in class, her mind was always wandering. She was constantly crying, repeatedly telling Sister Li and her colleagues that she had harmed Sister Chen, that Sister Chen had died in her place. Why did he kill Sister Chen? Where could you find someone as good as Sister Chen? I treated Sister Chen like my own sister, and Sister Chen treated me like her own sister. She would rather not keep a single soybean, scattering them all on the balcony for me. Otherwise, would she have died? She said, "Little sister, I'm not looking down on you, but do you even know how to scatter them? You're scattering them incorrectly!" She scattered them on the balcony for me, even spreading them out little by little with her hands. I asked Sister Chen, "Have you finished scattering them on the balcony?" Guess what she said? She said, "Why would I scatter them? I've lived this long, why would I be afraid of dying? I'm not as young, educated, and capable as my little sister. What hope do I have left?" Sister Chen never spoke like that. Hearing her say that, I felt something was wrong. I never expected… He Fangmei broke down in tears, unable to continue.

He Fangmei's words touched everyone, and they couldn't help but shed tears. Later, Sister Li asked her supervisor for leave and had Lao Ma come and take her home.

Back home, He Fangmei knelt on the balcony again, holding soybeans to her chest and crying.

She heard a noise that startled her, her heart pounding. She realized it was her phone ringing, but when she turned it on, she heard only a rumbling sound and no one spoke. She glanced at the number, a thought suddenly struck her, and she quickly asked:

"Sister Chen! Where are you? I miss you so much!"

"Haha, I'm your Sister Chen..."

The voice that answered her seemed to be neither male nor female.

After thinking for a moment, it suddenly dawned on her—how could it be Sister Chen's phone call! Wasn't Sister Chen murdered? But when she checked her phone, it was indeed Sister Chen's number! She couldn't help but recall Sister Chen saying that her grandmother always came in her dreams by boat, calling her home…

She suddenly threw down her phone, wondering what had happened. "Why would Sister Chen call me?"

The more she thought about it, the more frightened she became, and the less she knew what to do. Perhaps because of her fear, she suddenly became much more clear-headed and remembered what Tingting had said: her mother's phone and watch were gone, so the murderer must have taken them.

Was this call made to me by the murderer?