Dow and Carbon-Based Monkey Breeding Guidelines

Chapter 1006 The Long Night (Part )

When he woke up groggily, he felt like he was floating in the clouds. The air around him was as humid as the spring rainy season, and the cold penetrated the heavy coat and cotton shirt with the moisture, and penetrated into the bone marrow. Only his right shoulder was burned by the flames, and the burning sensation lingered. But the pain was also very distant, like touching a hot iron pot through a wet flannel; compared with the impression left by the belt whipping or cigarette burns in the past, this kind of continuous and weak pain stimulation was easier to adapt to.

There was also pain in the back of his head. His ankles and radial joints were pressed against the hard vertical pole, and the rough ropes would dig into his flesh with a slight force. He roughly understood the situation, and continued to close his eyes and listen to the sounds around him.

Someone was walking under the floor, first turning on the faucet, then looking through the refrigerator. It sounded like there was only one person, probably coming in through the back window. After the security system was removed to make a motion sensor trap, the building was already almost defenseless. In order to prevent "eyes", any device that could connect to the Internet was avoided as much as possible. It was not surprising that it was invaded now, but I didn't expect the address to be locked so quickly. What went wrong? While he was thinking, the intruder had already walked up the stairs. Perhaps because he was carrying a heavy object, the intruder's footsteps were a little clumsy. He stumbled on the narrow and steep steps, making a sound of liquid splashing and hard objects hitting each other - after hearing this sound, he realized belatedly that he was completely wet.

The footsteps reached the second floor. Because the truly important studio was located underground, the bedroom on the second floor, which was just a decoration, had never been carefully decorated. Visitors could see the interior space at a glance just by standing at the stairs. Zeng Hao could not only hear the other party's subtle but rapid breathing, but could even sense the enemy's eyes on him; even though he had thought about the various possibilities of being caught, he did not care whether the guest's promise to him could really come true, but he felt a faint sense of horror in his heart.

It was too quiet. No matter what scenario he imagined, he should not be caught in silence. He also wanted to discern the intruder's emotions from the subtle breathing, but he could not hear anything. He did not have the incredible sniffing ability of a guest, but he still felt that a very strange thing had entered his home. The intruder was neither excited nor nervous, but just staggered and exhaled heavily.

Suddenly, a large amount of ice water mixed with ice cubes poured down from above his head. The sudden chill made his body tremble uncontrollably; his eyelids trembled slightly, and he heard the sound of the iron bucket being thrown onto the pine floor.

"Ah," he heard the intruder say, "you're awake."

Disguise was futile, he had no choice but to open his eyes and face the enemy. In the bedroom of about 20 square meters, due to the design of windows on three sides, he could roughly distinguish the layout even without turning on the lights at night; coupled with his familiarity with his daily residence, he immediately realized that he was tied to an old wooden armchair beside the bed. The cushion of the wooden chair always had a strange smell of turpentine and rotten grass. It was said that the previous owner often fell asleep on the chair before his death.

The intruder was sitting beside the bed. Before he was hit on the back of the head and fell unconscious, Zeng Hao had seen the other person briefly and knew that he was not the old man he met in the library, but a middle-aged man in his twenties or thirties. As for the more specific details of his appearance, he had no time to look at it, let alone determine whether it was the person of "Eyes" - judging from the timing, the probability of such an incident is certainly the highest, but it is not impossible for something unexpected to happen. For example, in this remote and deserted self-built building in front of him, most thieves who are looking for money will disdain it, but those who are really at the end of their rope, such as fugitives or loan sharks, may have the idea of ​​occupying the magpie's nest.

He was not hoping for the best, but the intruder before him did not match his expectations. Rather than a hunter who had gone through so much trouble to catch his target, the other party gave him the impression of a fugitive being hunted. Whether it was the muddy clothes, the messy hair, or the scars on his cheeks, he did not look like a hunter at all. If these could be considered disguises, the pair of eyes that were sunken due to exhaustion also confirmed his feeling: there was no color of victory in this person's eyes, only fatigue and frenzy. As he stared at the other party in a daze, he even forgot the fear that he had before he opened his eyes, and only doubts remained in his heart.

The other person also looked him up and down, over and over again, as if trying to find some kind of demonic feature in him. After an unknown amount of time, the stranger finally said, "You are very different from what I thought."

Zeng Hao didn't know how to respond, so he could only speak his true feelings: "Who are you?"

"Who am I?" the man repeated, as if he found it incredible. "You don't know who I am?"

Why should I know? He thought silently in his heart. The only contribution he could make was to remove the guard from his position. Since the mission has been completed, it doesn't matter who the "Eye" sends to hunt him down. Whether it is the most shrewd and capable person in the world, the most dangerous and vicious person, or the most famous person...what does it have to do with me? It is too self-centered to take it for granted that others will know me.

The man suddenly stood up and walked through the three walls with windows one by one. While waiting for Zeng Hao to return, he must have checked the basic structure of the small building. At this time, he first pulled down all the heavy blackout curtains to prevent outsiders from peeping from the window, and then walked to the stairs and accurately turned on the chandelier above the bed.

The light flickered laboriously for a moment, and finally turned the whole room into a dim yellow. Zeng Hao had not bothered to replace the bulb of the ceiling lamp because it had been worn out for a long time, so the lighting on the second floor had always been so unsatisfactory. Although the light was just gentle enough for people to see things clearly, his vision was darkening. The pain in the back of his head could explain the origin of this photophobia: after being shot in the right shoulder, the opponent immediately hit his occipital bone with some hard object, knocking him unconscious. Because the part that was concussed was the brain stem, perhaps the visual system was also damaged - thinking of this, the confusion in his heart became more intense: he could have chosen to hit the jaw and the back of the neck, or directly use anesthetic drugs, but the opponent found a fatal weakness to attack him. Didn't the "eyes" think of the signal transmitter? That was too slow.

He tilted his head back and thought for a while, and the dizziness that ran from the back of his head to his eyeballs gradually dissipated. The outline of the room emerged from the foggy darkness, and then the face of the intruder standing in front of him.

Before, Zeng Hao, who had not worn night vision glasses in advance, could only distinguish the most obvious features, such as the scabbed scars and the piercing gaze, and his overall impression of the face was only that it was morbid: the cheekbones were slightly prominent due to weight loss, and the area under the left eye occasionally twitched unnaturally, as if the nearby facial nerves had been damaged; and since the face was damaged in some kind of accident, the adjacent brain might have been damaged at the same time.

If a mental patient accidentally escaped into his home, then the whole thing had nothing to do with "eyes", and he could not save the situation from getting out of control. However, as he looked further under the light, his worries about encountering a strange madman were reduced. The man had a calm and thoughtful expression on his face, showing a stable and reliable mind; the size and color of the pupils of his eyes were slightly different, like the sequelae of some eye surgery - the unnatural twitching on the left side of his face was probably affected by vision. After confirming that tonight's encounter was not a pure coincidence, he belatedly did what ordinary people should have done long ago: go to see what this person looked like.

After regaining his life, his basic qualities have far surpassed those of the past, but his overall recognition ability of human faces has declined, which means he has become a so-called face blindness patient. Ordinary people can naturally form an overall impression of familiar faces with just one glance, but he has to consciously use his memory to save the features of various facial features in different categories, just like reciting a set of numbers. Although it is enough to maintain normal social interaction, it is very easy to make mistakes when recognizing people through photos. Not to mention the problems of shooting time and post-processing, the lens distortion caused by the shooting tool itself will greatly interfere with his judgment.

When he first saw the facial features of the person in front of him, he did not have any particularly useful associations: the forehead was generally flat and wide, the brow bones and nose bridge were high and the cheekbones were smooth, the eyebrows were low and the tails were bulging, the ears were high and moderately protruding, and the lips were slightly wider and thinner than the average... Putting these features together, the only thing that came to his mind was the "star student" who was sought after by teachers and classmates during his school days - he seemed to always compete for the attention of others in various occasions, and regarded everything around him as a stage device to set off himself. If this intruder was not morbidly thin and mentally distressed, he would probably be the type who was arrogant and seemed to be laughing at others at any time and place.

He did not believe that the so-called face could really represent the owner's personality traits, but purely in terms of appearance, this face made him hard to have a good impression. At first glance, there were no serious flaws, but the more he looked at it, the more it looked like a false and unreal painted skin, which made people suspicious for no reason. Perhaps the natural expression did not match the real emotion? Even if there was no joy in the other person's eyes, the natural curve of his lips seemed to be twisted and mocking.

After observing this feature, a possible answer suddenly jumped into his mind. He couldn't help but blink in confusion, thinking that this idea was unreasonable - why would this person find him first? Moreover, there was not even a person with "eyes" around him.

The other party took two steps back and sat back on the bed. "You recognized me." The man said, with a hint of sneer on his face, "I really thought you had never heard of me."

Zeng Hao said, "You look different from the photo."

"What ghost photo are you looking at? An ID card?"

He shook his head indifferently. The answer to this question was completely irrelevant. He had seen more than one picture when collecting information, but he just couldn't match it with himself. Thinking of this, his eyes suddenly fell to the foot of the bed, and the man who was watching him closely immediately bent down and picked up something on the ground. "Looking at this?"

It was an old-fashioned black cloth umbrella with a long handle; there was no trademark or mark, and the wooden handle was thicker than the popular style now. The customer jokingly called it a "magic wand". After he brought it back, it was only cleaned and wiped, and then put away in the studio. Because he knew that this was a device that could cause spiritual phenomena, he could not study it rashly without the corresponding equipment, and he lost the interest in wanting to understand it, and he did not touch it once in the past two days.

Until this moment, under his gaze, the intruder grabbed the two ends of the umbrella handle and pulled out a small part of the object in the handle with great effort. Originally expected to be a decorative rapier with a gleaming or ancient style, under the light, it did not look like a weapon at all. The blade, as thin as a little finger, was pale white, and the surface was shimmering and shiny like water, just like a glazed white porcelain product; the thickness was as thin as cardboard, as if it could be broken with a little force. It seems a stretch to call such a flashy object a "sword". At best, it is just a decorative object in the shape of a sword. No wonder the guest only told him that it was a "magic wand" even though he knew the mechanism.

The man did not pull the sword out of the umbrella completely, but only pulled out a small part to look at it, and then looked at Zeng Hao's neck with ill intent. Seeing that he did not react, he pushed the handle back to its original position and threw the umbrella back to the foot of the bed.

"I've seen this thing before," he said. "I didn't realize there was something else going on with it. I was checking your basement this afternoon and saw it again. You didn't even try to hide it. You just left it against the wall. I thought that wasn't the right way to treat a trophy, so I picked it up and examined it... So, what is it?"

Just as the guest had predicted, the man really paid attention to the "magic wand". In order to see how this hint would develop, he answered truthfully: "It is a ritual tool, a tool used to perform specific rituals."

"ceremony?"

He really didn't know how to explain further, but the other party kept staring at him, and finally he said that word against his will: "It's magic." While being forced to admit this concept, he couldn't help but smile. The man opposite laughed even harder, and raised his head again after a long while.

"I think so," he said. Then he was speechless again. Zeng Hao felt like he was waiting for him to ask questions first, but he didn't have any special information he wanted to know about the man in front of him. If the guest hadn't specifically prompted him, based on the intelligence he had collected about the target, the other party would be a completely insignificant outsider. Due to the lack of business or academic dealings, the target was completely inactive on social networking sites. It was even difficult to prove that the two knew each other at the level of public online information, let alone that they were close enough to know confidential information.

What could he ask the other party in such a situation? After much thought, Zeng Hao could only ask: "Why did you find this place first?"

Incomprehensibly, the other party was actually amused by this question. "Why not me?" he asked back, "Who do you think it would be?"

"Do you know what's in that box?"

"Oh, of course I know her." The man said, and then a suspicious look suddenly appeared on his face, staring at him uncertainly. "You have seen my photo...but how much do you know?"

He still shook his head. As for the other party's name and background, he did learn about them while collecting intelligence on the target. But the information on paper alone was not enough to explain why the other party was here, and there was no need for the guest to warn him specifically. So, this person probably has quite a lot of secrets.

"He mentioned me to you?" the man asked again, "What do you call the man who helped you set the trap?"

The only person who can be described as "the one who helps you set the trap" is probably the guest. To this, Zeng Hao answered honestly: "There is no need to call him that."

"You never asked him his name?"

"Why ask?"

The so-called names were originally used only to distinguish people in a group. As for the guests who always interacted with him alone, he had neither the ability to pronounce the other's real name in the language of the River Land nor the need to make up a pseudonym to distinguish the other party.

The man didn't argue over the boring details. "He told you about me, didn't he?"

"Ah."

"What did he say?"

In fact, except for the night when they talked about the pottery pattern, the guest rarely talked about people and things related to the target. Instead, he followed his wishes and described the river land and the hometown of the educator. As for the person in front of him, why should he ask more? "By the way, he has a very close friend who may cause you trouble later." Just knowing this information is enough - however, if I had taken the guest's warning more seriously, I would probably have put in a little more effort and would not have been so passive tonight.

After he repeated that simple comment to the person in front of him, the other party seemed to be unable to believe it and repeatedly asked if there was anything else. "Didn't he mention how he would help you lure the prey into the trap?"

"Never said that."

"You didn't even ask?"

Zeng Hao shook his head, thinking that this person must be a very curious type. How could he think that he knew everything about the customer's plan? Since the customer promised to come back and take the guitar after leading the target to the trap point, the customer would naturally fulfill this promise, and it was not his turn to ask about the specific method.

The intruder was still staring at him, not missing any clues on his face, as if he was sure that he would lie. After a long time, he heard the man say, "I saw your handwriting in a notebook."

"You mean that song?"

At the beginning of summer, just a few days before the guest left, the song that had been written in fits and starts was finally completed. He thought the guest would write the lyrics himself, but he handed him the pen at the table. After a moment of surprise, he wanted to explain that he didn't know any music theory or lyrics, but the guest said that he just had to write it down - sending a handwritten challenge letter to the opponent is also a kind of etiquette, right?

He never regarded the target as a fateful "opponent", but since it was the guest's suggestion, he obeyed the order. In the past two years, he rarely wrote with his right hand, and even when he was tutoring Xi Chen, he always used his left hand to correct him. He was not worried that his handwriting would reveal his whereabouts. He wrote down the two lyrics according to the guest's dictation, and naturally reacted to the hidden meaning between the words. However, he did not understand how to convince the target with just these two unfounded words. He returned the notebook to its original owner with doubts, and the guest just said: "You need the right person."

The man sitting on the bed rested his left elbow on his leg, his palm supporting his chin and half of his face. A few forked fingers deformed half of his face, and even the smile he showed while listening was distorted. "It takes the right person." The man repeated his words, "That guy really said so."

Zeng Hao looked at the bulge of the sheet beside the man's legs and estimated that the weapon that injured his right shoulder was hidden under the sheet. Since the flow aid and other equipment were placed in the studio, trying to get the weapon seemed to be the only feasible way to fight back. However, the nylon ropes that fixed him to the seat were tied very tightly, completely aimed at the degree of necrosis of his distal limbs - how exactly did this person want to deal with him? It didn't seem that he was eager to kill him.

"Let me tell you how the lyrics work," the man said. He then began to tell his own story, from how the guest appeared in front of him to how he handed the notebook to the target. "So," he concluded, "I am your 'right person.'"

He listened to the whole thing in silence. Although he had an idea of ​​what happened, he didn't feel the need to comment. Strangely, the man kept staring at his face, as if he was eager for him to respond. But what was there to respond to? Because he killed the target, it was such a simple and easy thing for the target's friends to come for revenge. Was he hoping to see his fear or despair? If he really wanted to pursue this kind of revenge, it would be more efficient to let him suffer torture without knowing the reason rather than explaining the reason clearly. After thinking blankly for a while, he had to ask, "What do you want?"

"What do I want? I can't even say for sure. What can you give me?"

Zeng Hao had never thought that he would be asked such a question. He tried to think for a while, then asked: "Do you want me to confess?"

"Confess? Will you do it?"

"If you must hear it, just tell me what you want to hear."

He just gave the most direct answer according to his true thoughts, but he saw the man opposite him staring at him blankly, his tightly furrowed brows raised in astonishment, squeezing out a few wrinkles on his forehead; then a desperate laugh broke out from his tightly pursed lips. He laughed breathlessly like a groan, and his lips were pulled apart to reveal his tightly clenched teeth. The thunderous laughter burst out with a clacking sound, like sparks of lightning splashing into the dead forest. The man's hand supporting his left face slipped down, and the whole person fell sideways on the bed as if cramped. The laughter gradually died down, leaving only the groaning like a flame.

"Oh my God," the man murmured in a dreamy voice, "He's not talking about Jing Huang... He's talking about you, you..."

The man suddenly jumped up from the bed. The gun that had wounded Zeng Hao's right shoulder had returned to his hand like magic. His eyes, which were as still as those of a dead man, and the muzzle of the gun were pointed at Zeng Hao's face. The three deep holes were all equally dark and empty, sending out a warning signal that he would kill at any time.

"You look quite different from the version I heard," he said. "We all know who did it. Now, I want to hear you talk about this person... Why are you staring at me? You know who I'm talking about, and you think so highly of him, so you should be able to tell me something? What does he look like? What's his temper like? Can you at least tell me one or two of his preferences?" Zeng Hao just looked at him in confusion. He did anticipate the situation of being interrogated after being arrested, and thought of all the key links to answer, and even made preparations to resist the polygraph procedure to conceal the signal device code; but in the end, he was faced with this kind of question. For a moment, he could only think about what went wrong, and didn't think about what the other party was asking.

"I'll give you ten seconds," the man said. When he heard the other party really start counting down, he finally felt a sense of reality and thought about how to answer. But when he opened his mouth, he couldn't utter a word; he planned to honestly say "I don't know", but he knew in his heart that such an answer would not satisfy the other party.

Was he going to be shot for not being able to answer this question? Even if he was sure that he could ignore life and death, he still felt that this ending was too hasty. In order to stop the other party's death countdown, he had to say: "You need a signal transmitter--"

"Oh, no, I don't need that thing, whatever it is," the man interrupted. "I just need your answer. Five, four, three..."

It seemed that he had to answer. Even if it was a fabricated story, he had to give out some information first to save his life. He tried his best to imagine the image of an educator in his mind, trying to find a description that at least sounded reasonable; it should be a very simple task, but only silent hesitation came out of his mouth. In such a moment of distraction, he heard a "zero" sound in his ears, and saw the man exert force with his knuckles and decisively pulled the trigger.

There was a light click. Zeng Hao blinked, and the man with the gun bent over with laughter. "What's wrong with you?" he asked breathlessly, "What's wrong with you? I can't stand dealing with guys like you every day..."

He stood up shakily, wiped his eyes vigorously, and pulled the safety bolt of the gun in front of Zeng Hao. "Next time, it won't be fake." He said to Zeng Hao, "I can see that you are not afraid of death, but what's the matter with your thinking just now? I say, that guy has changed your life! You are even willing to kill for him, which must mean that there is something about him that you admire, right? Does he take good care of you? Give you a little warmth of home? Or is his strange temper just to your liking?"

Every time the man asked a question, Zeng Hao could only shake his head in confusion, not understanding why he had any likes or dislikes for the educator's personality. Although he no longer had to worry about making a living after being taken in, he did not treat the educator as a foster parent. To be precise, he did not expect the educator to love his children, nor did he ever think about whether he liked the educator's behavior pattern. He just followed the other party's requirements and continued to learn and test.

If you ask him why he obeyed the instructions of his educator, it had nothing to do with the various trivial details raised by the person in front of him. It was just for the simplest and most direct reason. Even when facing the gun, he could answer frankly like this: "Because he is right."

The man looked at him as if he had heard a foreign language. "Go on," he said, stroking the muzzle of his gun, "let me hear what you're saying."

This is another question that Zeng Hao doesn't know how to answer. How else to explain? These are all obvious things. It's just that he wants to do the right thing - he wants to explore the essence of phenomena, he wants to transcend his original self, he wants to conquer the universe with his endless efforts, and then reshape all the imperfections. Apart from this spirit of striving for success, what else in the world can be called "right"? And the vulgar people who indulge in sensual desires, who only seek the most vulgar and shallow interests all day long, and who are confused and revolving between life and death, cannot see the slightest bit of the expedition's feats, so how can they be told with simple words?
"You won't understand." He could only answer like this. Before he spoke, he was prepared to be shot immediately, but the man just rubbed the muzzle of the gun. The cold look in his eyes was no longer visible, as if it was driven away by the exhaustion.

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"What don't I understand?" He continued to ask, with unprecedented patience, "Your theory of death order?"

"Are you familiar with this theory?"

"I can't say for sure - I've heard it, but I can't guarantee that I understand it correctly. Hey, it was your friend who played the guitar who explained it to me!"

The man switched the gun to his right hand, pressed hard on his temple with his left thumb, and then rubbed his ears, as if there was a noise in his head that prevented him from thinking about what was happening in front of him.

"You also believe in this theory," he said, pinching his ear, "as long as everyone... not everyone, in fact, as long as most of the living things die, the universe will become more normal, and even better, right? The wishing machine will no longer oppose you because of the definition of the subject object, and you can take the opportunity to carry out a big project, and even call back all the dead people - is this what I understand?"

The conclusion from the man's mouth, although irrelevant to the specific content of the theory, was very close to the expected picture. Hearing that he was so close to the correct answer, Zeng Hao couldn't help but feel a little surprised; then he looked at the gunman's expression, which showed neither disgust nor yearning. With a mentality of wanting to confirm his guess, Zeng Hao asked: "Do you think it's wrong?"

The man sighed deeply. The fatigue in his eyes became even heavier, and he sat back on the bed as if he could no longer support himself. "What do I think?" he asked back, "What can I think? Can your savior pat his chest and guarantee that his theory is correct?"

“You won’t know unless you verify it.”

"What if his theory turns out to be wrong? What will you say then?"

"Then the theory is wrong."

"that's it?"

“The process of trial and error is inevitable.”

He also repeated the inevitable answers to these extremely old questions that have been asked thousands of times at different times and places without hesitation.

The man fell silent, lowered his head and turned the gun in his hand. "I didn't come to talk to you about this." He said with deep weariness, "The universe, truth, eternity! These topics are not to my taste. I came here for something that can be seen and touched."

He raised his head and smiled at Zeng Hao, but his eyes glanced at the black umbrella lying at the foot of the bed. "There are a lot of interesting things in your basement. To be honest, you should make the security system more detailed... Is there any restriction? Even if you want to protect Li Li, you should at least change to a thicker metal door. Do you know what I saw the first time I went in? It was not the umbrella, but the model of the earth and the moon you made, which was placed next to the astronomical telescope - I guess you made it yourself, because the handwork is very detailed - the position of the back of the moon is also marked! So, I think you know this part of the plan."

Seeing the man pointing at the night sky blocked by the curtains, Zeng Hao nodded calmly.

"Do you understand what this means? You are going to use the lives of everyone on this planet to pave the way for your plan."

"I can fix this."

"How to deal with it?"

Until this moment, the bargaining chip that should have been thrown out immediately when they met was finally remembered. While observing the man's reaction, Zeng Hao said, "I can contact Wuyuan Base."

"You seemed to have mentioned something like a signal transmitter."

"Activation password required."

"Ah, yes, this is your life-saving talisman - but what if your plan doesn't go well? Complex plans are always prone to errors. If the person you want to kill refuses to be fooled and keeps avoiding your trap, you must never call Wuyuanren to cause trouble for you."

"I won't scream."

"If things really go wrong, you would rather kill him with everyone here? Everyone you knew in the past, and everyone who didn't know you and didn't hurt you?"

Zeng Hao just lowered his head to look at his knees. He had been tied up for too long and it seemed that all the joints in his limbs had lost feeling.

"Why?" the man asked, "Just because he made your plan impossible to carry out?"

"Yes."

"Because he killed your savior?"

“These are two different things.”

"So what else did he do?"

“He’s interfering with the acquisition of critical zero-value language.”

The man frowned, not very satisfied with the answer, but did not pursue the matter any further. "Is that all?" he asked again, "Is there no opinion of yours towards him? No hatred of yours at all?"

Zeng Hao thought quietly for a while. Some people can tell their emotions at any time, which is strange to him. Like him, even if he tries hard to find something tangible in his thoughts, the answer he gets is still vague and unclear. Whether he has hatred towards the target, he would say no at first, but he is hesitant after careful consideration. However, in the final analysis, there is only one thing that is clear.

“My feelings don’t matter,” he said. “Hating or not hating is not part of the plan.”

"You don't care about your feelings at all?"

"Yes."

"But you're looking for the 'right' thing. I mean, if you really don't care about your feelings, then why are you looking for it?"

He couldn't answer because the two things didn't seem to be related to him, but the man rubbed his cheeks and laughed as if he had discovered something. "It's too late." He murmured, "It's too late for you... or, it's too early..."

The man put down his gun and pulled out a strange-looking curved knife from his coat. He walked behind Zeng Hao with the knife. "I think that's about all I know from you," he announced. "The rest of the details can probably be found in your basement, so you don't have to worry about it..."

A chill crept up Zeng Hao's neck. It was hard to tell whether it was an illusion caused by nervousness or whether the blade was indeed hovering near his skin. Then, with a few light clicks, he heard the rope fall to the ground, and the intruder walked away from him.

"Go away." The man gestured with the knife in his hand, with an indifferent attitude, "You are of no use to me anymore."

Because his hands and feet were numb, he couldn't stand up for a while, and could only sit in a chair in a daze. The man didn't even look at him, but stretched out his hand to open the curtains and look out at the fields. He really didn't expect this result, so he couldn't help asking, "Are you going to let me go?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"Aren't you going to kill me?"

"I have considered it," the man said. "Since I came into this room, I have been thinking about what to do with you. Kill you? To be honest, that's a little too easy. If I could do it, I would definitely give you a taste of my experience - I would turn you, this lowly little beast, back to what you were like when you were twelve years old, stupid, weak, pitiful and helpless, and then throw you back to your shitty parents; you have to taste every moment of your feelings, and torture you like this until you grow up - but unfortunately I can't do it. It's too late! Now you don't care about anyone in this world. I can only give you time to recover your consciousness until one day you think you can live a happy life, then I will appear in front of you again."

Zeng Hao held onto a chair and slowly stood up. The pain in his right shoulder made his face sweaty, but he smiled indifferently when he heard these words: "That day will never come."

"You think you can hold on?"

"I can sacrifice everything for what is right."

The man turned his head to the window. Under the light, his smile and eyes were full of contempt. "Sacrifice." He chewed on the word, "What do you think you sacrificed? Parents? Friends? Life? You just think you have these things - in name only, you think you really have them, just like others have them. Wake up! In fact, you don't have any good things, so you have nothing to sacrifice. This word is a joke when applied to you, and you can actually say it seriously."

Zeng Hao staggered down the stairs. He listened carefully as he passed the dining table on the ground floor. It was still quiet upstairs. He didn't know where to go after leaving, so he looked back at the studio entrance at the bottom of the stairs; it was completely blocked by a heavy pine bookcase, and it was obvious that he would not be allowed to go in to get any equipment.

He continued to walk out the door. The whole house was clanging in the night wind; it was originally built for an old man from a tree farming family. Although the old man had children, he ended up living alone because of his eccentric personality. After the old man died, the house was rented to Zeng Hao, who also lived alone. Outside the small building, the dark pine forest and the pale moonlight mixed with each other, interlacing like a black and white print with messy lines. The night wind was sobbing, and the pine branches were trembling in the darkness. Zeng Hao walked through the main door of the small building. Groups of small flying insects were circling in the weeds in the front yard, and they flew straight into his face like bees in the limewood forest. A gecko was lying on the wall, as if attracted by these flying insects. He turned his head to look at the little thing with a long tail. At this time, gunshots rang out from the second-floor window.

He fell down. This time it was not because of the impact of being shot at close range, but because he was hit in the right ankle, and then the left ankle. The gunshots rang out one after another, three times in a row, hitting his feet and left shoulder. After these three gunshots, the world seemed to be frightened and fell silent for a moment; until it realized that only Zeng Hao had fallen, it immediately became more violent: the wind cried louder, and the pine branches swayed anxiously; the forest owls wailed with hoarse voices, and the katydids responded with wailing sounds in the lower place. Only the gecko moved nimbly on the wall, concentrating on chasing flying insects. The ruthless and loud laughter fell from the second floor, drifted all the way to the courtyard wall where the gecko was lurking, and looked down at Zeng Hao's stunned face.

The man showed him the gun in his hand, this time the safety was on. "I told you, next time it won't be fake." He had a happy smile on his face, "I was just joking with you, but you can be of use to me."

He grabbed Zeng Hao by the collar, dragged him through the weeds and hard stone steps, and threw him back onto the living room floor. Fresh, warm blood slithered between the front yard and the living room like a red python. The man sat on the wooden chair by the dining table window. The pale, bloodless moon outside the window looked at them coldly. Zeng Hao twisted her body with difficulty and turned her face towards him. Every breath brought a painful spasm, as if what she breathed into her lungs was not air but miasma.

"Hush," the man said, "you won't be killed by this wound, but I can't let you give her the activation code—there's a lot more to do tonight."

(End of this chapter)