Ази Хелл - Глава 40
By the time he came down the mountain, the mother and daughter had already gathered a large pile of dry branches. They quickly washed the fish and vegetables. He remembered that he had bought steamed buns, so they only needed to cook one more dish.
They had finished everything and were about to cook the fish when he realized he'd forgotten to buy matches! And he'd forgotten to buy salt. These two things were the cheapest and most inconspicuous, so he'd forgotten them, but without them, nothing delicious could be made.
He was so angry that he stomped his feet and said, "I'm a bastard! I'm a bastard!" He turned to leave, but his daughter grabbed him and said, "Dad, you've already made your trip. Now it's my turn. I can't just sit back and wait to get something for nothing."
"That won't do!" he panicked, refusing to let his daughter go.
The daughter said, "Dad, you're always like this. When will your daughter grow up?"
At that moment, he realized his daughter had grown up, and he couldn't help but burst into tears.
He turned his face away, wiped away his tears, and slowly turned back to say, "Let Dad go! Let Dad go! Give Dad a chance! Dad won't be able to do anything for you again!"
His daughter tilted her head, staring intently at his face, and said, "Dad, what's wrong with you today? You're crying? Are you moved by me? Is it really that bad?"
He suddenly turned around and ran as fast as he could. This was the last time he would run for them and be busy for them. This was their last chance to meet in this world. They could only wait for the next life to reunite.
The babbling green water flowed in the sky, the colorful sunset floated on the ground, flowers bloomed overhead, and the warmth of the earth rippled in his heart. He didn't know if he was running in his own dream, wandering in his own imagination, or simply daydreaming. If it was a dream, he would rather never wake up; if it was imagination, he longed to never return to reality.
A flame of happiness was lit by the riverbank. He saw it dance in the water, it saw it leap in his daughter's eyes, it warmed her cheeks, and it warmed his heart. Smoke and fire mingled, tears and snot streaming down their faces, but they finally cooked the fish. "Let's try it," they said. "Is the clear fish soup drinkable?"
My daughter, who is usually picky about food, said she had never eaten such delicious fish before! She had never drunk such fresh fish soup before! Whether it was because she was hungry or because of the fun of being outdoors, this fish and soup, which lacked many seasonings, was indeed more fragrant, sweeter, and tastier than the fish she made at home.
Sitting by the riverbank, where fish leaped in the golden sunset, his wife and daughter nestled beside him, enduring mosquito bites, singing song after song. Each of them racked their brains, singing every song they could remember, without worrying about disturbing the neighbors, without worrying about other people's disapproving looks, and without the noise of a karaoke bar. To him, the singing was heaven on earth in the night. How could he not be moved to tears? Fortunately, it was already dark around them, and in the darkness, none of them could see the tears streaming down his face.
The birds fell silent; the world quieted down, so quiet that only the chirping of insects in the grass could be heard. Even the river, silent during the day, suddenly roared. Lightning flashed across the distant horizon, a beautiful, serene spectacle they had never witnessed on a clear night. Occasionally, the mournful calls of night birds echoed around them, their calls evoking a sense of vastness, a feeling of being intimately called by nature. They thought, confined daily in concrete jungles, how could they not imagine the captivating beauty of nature every day? Surrounded by such enchanting scenery, how could they not forget the constant anxieties and fears of the city?
He was awakened by thunder in his dream. When he climbed out of the tent, he saw that the light rain was falling and the world was full of colorful patterns.
He didn't want to sleep anymore, so he sat at the tent entrance keeping watch for his daughter and her mother. Suddenly, he felt a warm sensation on his back. He reached out and touched it, and his daughter giggled, her laughter breaking the stillness of the night. She and her mother nestled behind him, watching the raindrops fall gently on the river, reflecting the blooming flowers.
The tent was leaking, but even as he got soaked, he didn't regret it. Instead, he thought it was God's last chance to let him enjoy his beloved daughter's final happiness.
His daughter was shivering with cold. He took off his clothes and put them on her, but she refused. He thought he should pretend to be angry and scold her to make her put them on quickly. Then he should wrap the tent around her, sit next to her mother, and let her lie on their laps to sleep.
His daughter started sobbing. He asked her why she was crying and if she was cold, but she didn't say anything for a long time.
Later, he mustered up his courage and said, "Daughter, don't be afraid of the darkness, Daddy is here! Daddy has never been afraid of the dark since I was a child."
However, she said she wasn't afraid of the dark. She said that with her father and mother by her side, what was so scary about the dark?
He hugged his daughter tightly and said over and over again, "It's no big deal! Don't be a lazy bum!"
The mother was also very anxious and pulled her daughter into her arms.
After a long silence, the daughter finally said, "I know it's going to rain today. I listened to the weather forecast, but I didn't tell Mom and Dad. I'm sorry, Mom and Dad."
He was speechless for a long time, and his daughter panicked and called out "Daddy, Daddy!"
He couldn't wipe away his tears. How could a father be angry with his daughter? "Dad is so grateful to you, so grateful to you. You gave me a real chance to be a father. What is a father? A father is your winter coat, protecting you from the wind and cold; a father is your summer umbrella, providing you with shade; a father is the soil beneath your feet, allowing you to take root and grow. Dad is grateful to my good daughter. In the next life, I still want to be your father! In the next life…"
His daughter hugged him tightly and burst into tears; the three of them cried together.
He was carried by a large iris butterfly and flew up, experiencing the feeling of flying in his childhood dreams.
Fish swim in the clouds, birds fly in the water.
As he flew, he saw butterflies flying everywhere in the sky. The butterflies had the heads of daughters, the breasts of wives, and the buttocks of wives. They were white and smooth. Some were strung together horizontally, and some were strung together vertically. They covered the sky and flew back and forth. With a loud bang, they crashed into his stomach and burst him open. He was left with only his head and wings. His heart, liver, lungs, and intestines were hanging around his neck, all covered in blood. The butterfly people surrounded him and ate his heart, liver, lungs, and intestines. They ate him until he was left with only his head. He fell to the ground in pain.
Whether from afar or nearby, a metallic clanging sound rang out, causing the surrounding iron fences to rattle. The sound was like needles pricking at every nerve.
Touching her face, she wondered, were these tears shed beside her daughter, or were they falling now?
He couldn't understand it at all. Had he really gone camping with his daughter? Had all those wonderful things really happened? Had he really said so many touching things? Did his daughter really know his feelings? Was he just daydreaming again? Was it all just his wishful thinking?
He screamed to himself, "No! It's not a dream! It's all real! It's real!"
Life and dreams go hand in hand; beautiful dreams adorn life, while nightmares serve as wake-up calls. Life cannot exist without dreams; without dreams, life is colorless. Life itself is a grand dream, which vanishes upon waking.
He thought, his daydreams were coming to an end. Everything was about to end. Could someone tell him the truth: would there be an afterlife? Would he ever see his daughter again? Now, holding his daughter as she pooped and peed, wiping her bottom, feeding her, bathing her, and comforting her when she cried, had become the most beautiful things in his memory, happiness he could never hope for again.
"He declares war on society in his mind, and we know nothing about it; he accuses us, but doesn't tell us." He also came from childhood, and if we look back on this process, we cannot deny that all criminals are created by society.
Scene: Only what causes pain can bring joy.
On July 19, 2003, the fifth Saturday of death, Wang Liguo said he would never forget this day.
Later, when interviewed by reporters, they asked him, "What were you thinking on that Saturday night when you died? What were you thinking about?"
Wang Liguo's gaze suddenly became blank, and he immediately turned his face away, having not faced the interviewer for a long time.
He couldn't reach out to wipe away his tears; he had to control his emotions. How could a criminal investigation captain easily shed tears in front of others? He didn't want to recall the fear of those days, the kind of fear that would make a person weak and helpless, that would make them feel desperate.
Although the fake Liu Yang was ruled out, they had already selected 14 key suspects from 260 passengers based on the eight characteristics of the murderer, and conducted a detailed investigation on each of them.
At this point, they discovered that Sister Chen's cell phone had started working again, this time in Shenyang.
They quickly went to Shenyang and found the owner of the phone, Mr. Yang, who owned a mobile phone shop. He said he had acquired the phone in the past few days. On the afternoon of July 8th, a man came to sell phones. He was in his forties, short and thin, with small eyes, a parted hairstyle, and his hair was all slicked back. He looked quite respectable, not at all like a shifty-eyed thief. In our line of work, you can't be careless. If you accept a stolen phone from him, aren't you just asking for trouble? His face was quite dark, and he looked like he often worked outdoors, but he was quite energetic. I took a look and saw it was a Siemens 2108, quite old, blue. I asked him if he had a charger, and he said yes. I offered him 150 yuan, but he refused, pestering me for a long time to add a couple more yuan. I refused, and he stormed off. That's why I remember it so vividly—he came back that afternoon! He still pestered me to add a couple more yuan. I said I couldn't add more; if he thought it was a good deal, he could sell it; if he felt he was losing out, he could go to a few more shops. Later, he said, "There's no other way, I'll just sell it."
The detective asked you, "Judging from your accent, where is this person from?"
Mr. Yang said, "I'm sure he's not from Shenyang. He speaks like someone from the coast."
If you saw this person again, would you still recognize him?
This person is thin and small; I'm sure I can recognize him.