Book Synopsis
Book Tags
Donation Rankings
Comment
0 Comments
You May Also Like
墨書 Inktalez
At this moment, Li Xuyang staggered to his feet on the rooftop, an empty bottle rolling across the concrete floor with a crisp echo. The night breeze tugged at the corners of his clothes, and the distant neon lights blurred into hazy spots in his drunken haze. He looked up at the familiar E-shaped billboard, its metal frame glinting coldly in the moonlight. In a daze, he saw 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, a piece of paper folded into a square was firmly taped down. The letters "log" were scrawled unevenly, with a little tail on the last letter—Xu Yanran's unique handwriting. Li Xuyang's fingers suddenly trembled as memories surged forth: during their relationship, she loved to use codes to convey surprises—Morse code hidden in birthday cakes, mirrored writing on the back of Valentine's cards...
"Log, logarithm... to mouse?" He slapped his forehead suddenly and stumbled down the stairs. As he inserted the key into 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 tore open 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 never know."
Dear husband:
Happy birthday! Love you lots! This year I wanted to give you something special. Just in time, Dr. Duan is planning to change cars, so I decided to buy his flashy old car for you! How about that? 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 the car downstairs; you can take the key and go get it yourself! Make sure to drive it back to pick me up!
P.S. The transfer paperwork for the car hasn't been completed 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 deep into the leather as tears fell heavily onto his faded jeans. The moonlight outside crept 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 tucked it into his chest pocket, feeling the dampness of the key in his palm. The heavy sound of the security door slamming shut startled a stray cat in the hallway as he walked down the stairs step by step—each step felt like walking 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 in the living room like a trapped beast. 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 rushed in with a chill that seeped into his collar, making his legs weak from twenty stories up. "Can't get out through the window; the door is locked..." he muttered to himself, unconsciously scratching at the cross lock of the security door with his nails, leaving white scratches on its metallic surface.
Climbing, jumping out of windows, prying open doors... countless thoughts exploded in his mind. Zhang Hui crouched down and grabbed a sofa cushion, slamming it onto the ground and kicking up a cloud of dust. As an experienced construction worker of ten years, climbing an exterior wall should have been easy; however, there were no footholds on that smooth wall. He rummaged through drawers turned upside down; aside from a few ballpoint pens and old receipts, he couldn't even find a box cutter—let alone a hammer to break open the security door.
"Maybe I can jump to my neighbor's place!" He dashed to the main balcony; however, touching the cold railing extinguished any hope instantly. The three-meter gap separated him from safety behind iron bars; there was no way to gain momentum for a jump; while he could see a toilet window across from him just within reach, it mocked him like a small box suspended two meters high—not only would jumping result in broken legs but also risk getting stuck in its frame.
"Down... yes! I can get out from downstairs!" Zhang Hui's eyes lit up but deflated instantly 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 ripping sound and fragments fell at his feet. When he finally pulled out the last drawer from a wardrobe, he collapsed onto the floor with tightness in his throat. Call for help? He touched his bulging backpack and imagined his daughter crying out for him 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 reminded of the triangular load-bearing bridge that Old Chen had demonstrated at the construction site. He moved a stool over, and as he stood on tiptoe, his knees made a cracking sound. The moment he removed the drying rod, the metallic clink echoed sharply in the silent room.
"Twenty centimeters short..." He gritted his teeth as he placed the drying rod on the railing, glaring at the insufficient gap. Frustrated, he kicked the wall. The metal rod hit the ground hard, knocking over a nearby clothes support, and the three rods formed a crooked triangle in the moonlight. Zhang Hui froze, Old Chen's words suddenly clear in his memory: "Three wooden pieces interlock with each other; 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 firmly lodged into the groove of the clothes support, he held his breath. The assembled triangular 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 photo on the coffee table, where a little girl smiled 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 triangular bridge beneath him creaked softly as he crawled slowly toward 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 tiles, he turned around and bowed respectfully before disappearing around the corner of the stairwell.
The street below glowed with a cold light. Zhang Hui felt the weight of his belongings in his backpack suddenly feel like a thousand pounds. In the distance, the outline of an E-shaped billboard flickered in the dawn light like a pair of silent eyes witnessing countless stories of entrapment and redemption in this city.
Comment 0 Comment Count