Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
At that moment, Li Xuyang staggered to his feet on the rooftop, the empty bottle rolling across the concrete with a crisp echo. The night breeze tugged at his clothes, and the distant neon lights blurred into hazy spots in his intoxicated vision. He looked up at the familiar E-Shaped Billboard, its metal frame glinting coldly in the moonlight. In a daze, he imagined Xu Yanran sitting on the steel frame, swinging her feet and counting stars: "Look, doesn't that brightest one look like our future home?"
He climbed up using both hands and feet, the rusty iron frame groaning under his weight. When he reached the top, he found a piece of paper folded into a square, firmly secured with transparent tape. The word "log" was scrawled unevenly, with a little tail at the end—Xu Yanran's unique handwriting. Li Xuyang's fingers suddenly trembled as memories surged like a tide: she always loved to convey surprises through codes when they were in love—Morse code hidden in birthday cakes, mirrored text on the back of Valentine’s cards…
“Log, logarithm… to mouse?” He slapped his forehead and stumbled down the stairs. The moment the key turned in the lock, a phantom voice echoed in his ears: “Honey, you’re back!” Pushing open the bedroom door, he saw the pair of cushions printed with little mice quietly leaning against the headboard. Trembling, he unwrapped the male mouse cushion, and a car key slipped into his palm, cold metal against his skin; inside the female mouse cushion was a yellowed letter with only two short lines: “I’m sorry, there are some truths I hope you’ll never know.”
Dear husband,
Happy birthday! Love you lots! This year I wanted to give you something special. Dr. Duan is planning to change cars, so I decided to buy his flashy old car for you! What do you think? Surprised? Although it’s a second-hand car, it’s really practical and useful! With it, you can come home earlier after work and spend more time with me! I’ve already asked Dr. Duan to bring it downstairs; just take the key and go get it yourself! Don’t forget to come pick me up!
P.S. The transfer paperwork hasn’t been done yet, so Dr. Duan temporarily refunded me; make sure to thank him!
Love your wife: Yanran
Li Xuyang collapsed onto the sofa, his knuckles digging into the leather as tears streamed down onto his faded jeans. The moonlight outside crept up onto his shoulder before quietly sliding down onto that letter, illuminating the name "Dr. Duan." He didn’t know how long it had been before he slowly stood up, folded the letter into a square, and stuffed it into his chest pocket; the key left damp imprints in his palm. The heavy sound of the security door slamming shut startled a stray cat in the hallway as he descended the stairs step by step—each footfall felt like stepping on cotton—this was the last thing he could do for Xu Yanran.
Meanwhile, in a room on the 13th floor, Zhang Hui paced back and forth like a trapped beast in the living room. The valuables in his backpack pressed painfully against his lower back but felt like a hot potato. He clung to the balcony railing and looked down; the night wind swept cold air into his collar, making his legs weak from the twenty-story height. “Can’t get out through the window or unlock the door…” he muttered to himself, unconsciously scratching at the cross lock of the security door with his nails, leaving several white marks on its metal surface.
Climbing, jumping out of windows, prying open doors… countless thoughts exploded in his mind. Zhang Hui crouched down and grabbed a sofa cushion, throwing it violently onto the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. As an experienced construction worker with ten years under his belt, climbing an exterior wall should have been easy; however, there were no footholds on that mirror-smooth surface. He rummaged through drawers turned upside down; aside from a few ballpoint pens and old receipts, he couldn’t even find a paper cutter—let alone a hammer to break open the security door.
“Try jumping to the neighbor’s house!” He dashed to the main balcony; however, as soon as he felt the icy touch of the railing, hope shattered instantly. The three-meter gap was blocked by iron bars; there was no way to gain momentum for a jump; although he could see a toilet window directly across from him on their living balcony—mockingly small—it hung two meters high with an opening barely one square meter wide; jumping would either break his legs or leave him stuck in the window frame.
“Down… yes, go out from downstairs!” Zhang Hui’s eyes lit up but deflated when he lifted up the mattress—there wasn’t even a sheet or towel underneath it. He yanked at the sheer curtains with all his might; they tore apart with a rip and fell in fragments at his feet. When he finally pulled out that last drawer from the wardrobe, he collapsed onto the floor, throat tightening. Call for help? He touched his bulging backpack and imagined his daughter crying for her daddy over the phone before shaking his head violently.
The moonlight climbed up the top of the balcony's drying rack, casting a long shadow on the ground. Zhang Hui stared at the two metal rods, suddenly recalling the Triangular Load-Bearing Bridge that Old Chen had demonstrated at the construction site. He brought over a stool, and as he stood on tiptoe, his knees creaked with a "crack" sound. The moment he removed the drying rod, the metallic clang echoed sharply in the silent room.
"Twenty centimeters short..." He gritted his teeth, propping the drying rod against the railing, glaring at the insufficient gap. In frustration, he kicked the wall. The metal rod crashed to the floor, knocking over a nearby clothing support, and the three rods formed a crooked triangle under the moonlight. Zhang Hui froze, Old Chen's words suddenly clear in his memory: "Three Wooden Beams interlock; they can bear weight without nails."
Sweat dripped from his nose onto his hand, and his trembling fingers repeatedly adjusted the angle. When the first drying rod finally settled firmly into the groove of the clothing support, he held his breath. The assembled Triangle Bridge swayed slightly but remained steady under his tentative pressure. "It worked!" His voice was hoarse, but as he slung his backpack over his shoulder, he suddenly paused—the moonlight illuminated a family portrait on the coffee table, where a little girl in the photo was smiling sweetly.
Zhang Hui knelt on the floor and bowed deeply to the empty room. "I'm sorry. Once I gather enough money, I will repay you with interest." The Triangle Bridge beneath him emitted faint creaking sounds as he crawled towards the opposite window like a gecko, silently reciting his daughter's name with every inch he moved. When his feet finally touched the neighbor's tiled floor, he turned around and bowed respectfully before disappearing around the corner of the hallway.
The street below glimmered with a cold light as Zhang Hui felt the weight of his possessions in his backpack suddenly feel like a thousand pounds. In the distance, the outline of an E-Shaped Billboard emerged faintly in the dawn light, like a pair of silent eyes witnessing countless stories of entrapment and redemption in this city.
Comment 0 Comment Count