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墨書 Inktalez
Lin Zhao Cheng took a deep breath and raised his hand to lightly slap his face, harder than usual. The crisp sound echoed loudly in the quiet space, and he hoped to wake himself up, dispelling the inexplicable desires swirling in his mind.
"Calm down, just wait until I get home... wait until I get home..."
He murmured softly to himself, trying to make this phrase a sort of self-hypnotic mantra. There was no way he could actually sit back down here; that would be too strange. Yet, his body remained in a subtly tense state, every muscle seemingly retaining the memory of the recent massage, faintly, anxiously, yearning to sink back into that soft chair.
His toes instinctively curled for a moment, and then his feet shifted slightly forward.
Just one more step, and he could sit back down...
At that instant—
"Here I come!"
A cheerful voice broke through his thoughts.
Lin Zhao Cheng felt as if something had yanked him back to reality. He straightened up abruptly, his heart racing for a beat, and quickly turned his gaze toward the source of the voice.
A young man was pushing a rusty iron cart that wobbled as it moved, the wheels squeaking against the floor. He appeared relaxed, a smug smile on his face as if he had just accomplished something significant.
Seeing this, Lin Zhao Cheng quickly diverted his gaze, pretending to inspect other corners of the warehouse to avoid seeming like he had almost done something strange moments ago. He instinctively cleared his throat, trying hard to appear natural, but his fingers couldn't help but tighten slightly by his side.
The young man remained oblivious, striding over with the cart and cheerfully saying, "Mr. Lin, come help me out here. We need to lift this Massage Chair onto the cart. It's not a small item; one person can't handle it alone."
"Oh, sure." Lin Zhao Cheng replied, taking a deep breath and trying to make his movements appear casual as he walked toward the Massage Chair to assist with the lifting. He forced himself not to dwell on or revisit that strange impulse from earlier, yet a lingering sense of emptiness remained in his heart.
Could he really hold off until he got home?
The two bent down, inhaled deeply, and firmly grasped both sides of the Massage Chair with their hands. Together they exerted effort to lift the heavy object off the ground. The Massage Chair was heavier than Lin Zhao Cheng had anticipated; its mechanical structure made it feel like a solid block of iron—so heavy that it almost made him wonder if something unexplainable was hidden inside.
"Hey now... take it slow... yes, yes, just a bit to the left..." The young man instructed while bracing the chair with his shoulder and panting slightly.
Lin Zhao Cheng gritted his teeth as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His arms tensed as he and the young man slowly placed the Massage Chair onto the cart. When it finally settled securely on the metal frame of the cart, they both exhaled in relief.
"Phew—it's really heavy," the young man said as he shook out his arms and playfully patted the edge of the cart. "If this thing didn't work so well, who would want to buy it?"
Lin Zhao Cheng did not respond, merely reaching back to support his waist. In that brief moment, he found himself unaccustomed to the absence of the Massage Chair, as if only a few minutes had passed since he left it, and already his muscles began to protest.
The young man did not notice his discomfort; he skillfully pushed the cart toward the door, the iron wheels clattering over debris on the floor, the sound echoing sharply in the dimly lit warehouse.
As he stepped outside—
The harsh light of dusk pierced Lin Zhao Cheng's eyes mercilessly.
He blinked rapidly, his vision momentarily blurred and dazzling. The afterglow of the setting sun streamed through the gaps between low buildings, making his forehead heat up and his eyes sting slightly.
He raised a hand to shield part of the light, his eyes straining to adjust to the stark contrast from the dark warehouse to the bright outdoors. After a few seconds, his vision finally cleared.
The Massage Chair was carefully lifted by two people and placed in the trunk, its heavy weight causing the car to sag slightly. The young man slammed the trunk shut with a thud and patted the back of the car to ensure everything was secure.
At this moment, Lin Zhao Cheng had already settled into the driver's seat, starting the engine. A low rumble filled the car, clearly eager to leave this place.
The young man smiled as he walked up beside the driver's seat, leaning against the window and waving at him cheerfully. "Mr. Lin, I hope this Massage Chair meets your expectations! If you need anything next time, feel free to come find me; we might even do business again!"
Lin Zhao Cheng paused slightly at "next time."
A strange feeling stirred within him, but he did not dwell on it. He simply nodded lightly, placing his hand on the gear shift and pressing down on the accelerator, ready to depart.
The car slowly pulled away, tires crunching over gravel and kicking up a light cloud of dust that hung in the golden rays of sunset like a memory awakened, reluctant to settle.
The young man stood still in place, hands tucked into the oil-stained pockets of his overalls, tilting his head slightly upward as he watched the vehicle carrying the Massage Chair grow smaller in the distance.
His eyes narrowed slightly, reflecting the fading taillights that were gradually swallowed by the dimming sky. The outline shrank until only a faint shadow remained before it completely vanished into the vast horizon.
Only then did his smile truly emerge.
The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, as if he had just unraveled a complex riddle. Then that smile broadened, carrying a hint of amusement, a touch of satisfaction, and an unmistakable sense of pride—as if he had just sent off not an ordinary customer but a participant in a game with a predetermined outcome.
The license plate number was no longer visible; yet his smile grew wider as if some long-suppressed pleasure had finally been released. He chuckled softly, his laughter like a small stone dropped into still water, creating ripples.
"Hope he finds it... comfortable."
His voice was as light as a whispering breeze on the verge of fading, yet it carried an unusual emotion, a kind of almost obsessive delight, like an artist who had just completed a masterpiece, unable to resist murmuring in admiration of his own work.
Then, he laughed.
At first, it was just a slight curl of his lips, followed by a soft chuckle, and then—
“Haha… Hahaha… Hahahahaha—!”
The laughter suddenly erupted, like an unstoppable torrent surging from his chest, echoing throughout the empty countryside.
This laughter was not simple; it was not merely joyful. It was deep and prolonged, infused with an indescribable excitement, even resembling a pure, unsettling ecstasy.
The air around seemed to tremble with his laughter. The dilapidated Iron Shed quivered slightly, and several casually stacked cardboard boxes were lifted by the wind, tumbling toward the corners as if some invisible force were twisting the entire space.
The young man's shadow stretched long under the setting sun, distorting on the ground. As his shoulder quivered, it seemed as if some strange life was writhing and growing upon the earth.
“Hahahahahahaha—”
This laughter echoed endlessly in the deserted warehouse, in the silent dusk, beneath the gradually dimming sky, resonating, resonating, resonating...
Until darkness completely enveloped the world.
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