Novel serialization (17) "Open the Iron Door, the Sun Strands" (author Liu Ling)

This case was a sensation, I should have seen it in the newspaper, or rather, I had heard someone talk about it before Zhu Yun. Zhu Yun nodded. However, I didn't know so clearly, and I didn't know who that madman really was, that it would be so scary. Where did he come from? The murderer is so close to Zhu Yun, he is barely a neighbor, and he knows each other. I somehow pulled a handful of wild pepper leaves around me, and my fingers and thumbs made the spikes unceremoniously prick blood.

"He's not crazy, he's smart." Zhu Yun said.

Listening to Zhu Yun tell this story in one breath, it seems that even I am only a light and empty shell. Aside from adding fuel and vinegar, or deliberately setting off smoke bombs in the courtyard. Or Zhu Yun himself is also confused in his mind, and he can't force Zhang Guan Li Dai. "It doesn't matter," he said. "I found that a dozen or so classmates at the aqueduct construction site who listened to Zhu Yun's story were either too scared to speak or pretended to be absent-minded. In our surroundings, in the air, a filamentous mist slowly gathered, and the coniferous forests in the distance were tiled blue. I felt a pain in my heart. And it's very sad.

"Go away and stay away from the crowd as much as possible."

I don't want to keep hearing about these things. When I stopped believing in anyone in the courtyard, I should have really grown up.

Zhu Yun is indeed a little inadequate. Personally, after all, I plan to use code words as a lifelong career, and it is easier to share Zhu Yun's thoughts. It was impossible for him to hide that little bit from me, maybe it was because of this environment that I became so sentimental. I clicked on the soles of my rubber shoes and broke a long dead branch on my arm, and my feet stepped on the fresh soil that my classmates turned out, and then everyone stepped on it. The mud had turned black, and there were a lot of hard rubbles, mixed with stones that had never seen the light of day in the past. I continued to put my feet on the almost sun-dried, fluffy bamboo, thatch, and chicken bones that my classmates had cut down, and walked over a large expanse of darker, rain-drenched, snow-covered, frozen, lifeless, and flames burning across the map. I walked slowly, finding a way to get in, and my feet were on the thick humus soil that had accumulated for many years. I smelled the stench of poop and saw sick, disgusting, eye-catching toilet paper that looked like lichen, pitifully huddled in small heaps. I understand that if I accidentally step on the "good deeds" that my classmates are doing on the construction site.

So, I turned around and walked back again. I jumped up and stood on a moss-covered grey-black boulder, and suddenly wanted to stretch out my arms like a bird flapping its wings. I knew I wouldn't be able to fly out and take it back. Although, I haven't drawn the word "positive" on the black hard-shell notebook for a long time, and the row painted on the wall of the old dormitory of the first squadron has been demolished. It seems that no one in the courtyard has ever done that kind of stupid thing.

But I remember every day I got through clearly. Especially the nerves were too tight, and I felt that I was wronged for that moment. Sometimes my chest feels like I'm about to burst. Including the noisy courtyard, it seems that it has suddenly sunk into the abyss of the cracks in the ground. When I stood in the sun, I felt my heart freeze, and naturally I couldn't feel the blood rushing. On cold winter nights, I lay on the iron bed in the small dark room, or in my restless sleep, surrounded by the other four teachers in the teaching and research department, and under the peeping eyes of Director Zhou's night bird, I was often absent-minded in my lectures. Suddenly, I forgot what I wanted to say next? Thinking inadvertently deserted, and a feeling of loneliness was like a thief attacking my internal organs. Especially the midnight terror, I couldn't be sure that I was so close to death.

Many years later, I kept running away even in my dreams. They couldn't escape, they couldn't break through the high, thick wall, and I found that there was no door in the wall. What are you doing in the courtyard right now? I often dream of a gray town, not a big city with crisscrossed streets, but very old alleys paved with stones. The town is shrouded in soft, white moonlight.

I walked alone through this long and deep alley, hunching my shoulders, as if I was walking and walking from the bus station in the direction of the hospital, the middle school, and the bridge. I would suddenly hear a sullen, monotonous footsteps, and a bitter smell. Including the smell of body odor and sweat of labor teachers.

"There is no end to the alley." I told Dink.

Sometimes the sky will fall and I feel like the soles of my feet are slippery. Could Dink-Harmonic also dream of him being lost in such an empty town? On both sides of the street are all stilted buildings, and the wooden buildings are carved wooden lattice windows on the street side. Under a towering ginkgo tree, a window in the small building was pushed open.

"It looks like it's really my grandmother's house." I say.

It happened to be daytime, although there was no sun. The leaves of the ginkgo biloba tree have turned golden. I looked up suddenly, and I was surprised to see my mother standing in the window on the second floor. She leaned out of her upper body, thinking she was about to reach out and hug me. How could a mother have such long arms? I still don't understand that this was originally a dream. Mom smiled at me and stopped. I understood that she might be trying to tell me to go into my grandmother's house to hide from the rain, and I wondered why my son was in the town. I shook my head gently at my mother, perhaps warning her to keep quiet. Where am I pretending to be in a hurry? "Mom, my dear Mom. Is your illness completely cured? "I didn't even have time to listen to my mom before I was too far away from her. I still remember the last smile on my mother's face, and it was also strange, the corners of her mouth were a little stiff. I remember her originally cutting her hair. My mother's hair is very short, close to a man's head, and there are small locks of hair on her forehead, which almost covers most of my mother's eyes. At that time, the ginkgo trees were blurred behind me, and the outline of the wooden building was even more hazy. Actually, I don't even know where I'm going. Later, I heard the sound of crackling footsteps echoing in the deep alley behind, so I stopped in the middle of the street, turned around, and saw a lean middle-aged man through the layers of curtains. Suddenly I felt that it was my father. Doesn't it feel like it? I really don't know who the guy is chasing after me. He sometimes seemed very young, and in the blink of an eye I noticed that he was quite old and frail. The smile on his face was clear. When I became an old man, my father had a lot of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and he kept smiling at me. He sometimes seems innocent, naïve, and a little silly. My father was so kind and lovely when he became an old man. Later, I decided that the man was not my father. It's just that I accidentally saw my father's shadow from the other party, which penetrated deep into the bone marrow, integrated into the family bloodline, and broke bones and tendons. It can never be erased. The characteristics of my father's body have been inherited by me in their entirety, and it is clear that there is another self behind me. The man behind me as I ran was also speeding up. I can't find it, and I'm a little anxious. A bird with black and white feathers and a big fist flew up and landed on the ash pile in front of me. It startled and soared into the air, flying directly across the bushes. Oops, the birds' paws were burned, and I remembered that it was the embers of the fire that had been spent the night in the barren mountains and mountains last night, and the ashes were still buried in the ashes that had not been completely burned, and the leftovers were poured into the ash heaps, and the birds mistook it for food that had been sprinkled to feed them. The bird that fell into the trap was probably not one of the big flock, I recognized. Will it be crippled by my negligence? It's as if I heard the birds crying for help. What kind of bullshit am I holding in both hands in the back? It's like a beating heart. Knock knock. Knock knock. I'm still walking in front of me, and I can't catch up with me in the back. I always keep a sweat spot on my back, but out of reach.

I was like a wounded bird in this early spring chill, in need of love, friendship and affection, and no one cared about. Struggling through the bushes of the gently descending slope where the snow has not melted, fluttering and screaming. I never expected that. In this absurd era, I am so sad and emotionally chaotic that I care about everything far beyond my ability to bear. I usually worry too much, and in the end, I drag myself down. For example, the damage to love itself. My greatest grief and indignation, I endured the pain and thought repeatedly, it seems that I have never experienced true love.

So it is no longer the most important thing in life, and it is simply irreplaceable. About friendship, hypocrisy, all I saw was the colorful light of the fig leaf. In the past, my father often taught me that the more he nagged, the more upset I became, and even affected my family relationship. Any language becomes weak and powerless. In this way, the loneliness almost suffocated me. Walking on such a deserted road, it was as if I had fallen into a trap set by a hunter. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't climb the hurdle that didn't look high. It was a complete failure, and I cried when I thought about it.

Now, I am being held in a labor camp, and I have very little contact with my past co-defendants. The distance between each other is getting farther and farther apart, and it seems that there is no basis for communication. I feel that life is always shuffling. Everyone in the courtyard is complaining like this. I really don't know who to blame. Qu Hua, who is on duty, is the most open, and he repeatedly emphasizes that this is fate, and he is not to blame anyone anyway. Ding Ke also often persuaded me, he said: "Maybe I found the wrong person to vent, is there some misunderstanding." ”

"The personalities don't get along." Qu Hua said, "I really think that I have a lot of ability, and if I use it in the wrong place, I will become garbage." ”

"Where does it not close? I don't think that's the problem at all. What I mean is very simple, when I entered the courtyard, I was in the same case, if I was too close, I had a bad impression, and I thought I was ganging up again. How to hide inside, I'm afraid that people will grab the handle. It is not cost-effective to let people be a group for no reason. Don't laugh at me for being cowardly, bitten by a snake one day, and definitely afraid of the well rope for three years. Who would have thought that such a cautious person would be misunderstood. If you love to be cold, you can be cold, anyway, you are used to it, and you can't think of any other way. ”

"It's a slippery trick in itself, and it's good not to get that person. If you get it, you can pick the bones in the eggs. I'm not trying to stir up trouble. The same case is rarely compatible. ”

"That's right, the contradictions that were hidden in the past will erupt one after another."

"It's like a stinky flower, with soil for rooting and sprouting."

Qu Hua said: "Actually, you and your co-defendant have dealt with it well. ”

"There's no need to turn your face!"

"Brother Hua, do you have nowhere to hide?"

Xie Zhengxiong and I had already broken up outside, and we went our separate ways. As those from the countryside in the courtyard said, sheep don't fight with dogs. "You see better than I do!"

"You know that." Dink laughed heartily.