ecstasy

[So [Yellow Raincoat] originally had this much strength?]

For a moment, Richard didn't know which inference was more frightening.

The decision made by the section chief cannot be blamed; Richard himself never dreamed that he would encounter such a thing in Mong Cai, and he never thought that the guy in the yellow raincoat would be so terrifying.

The standard configuration for suppressing a maniac was usually just two trained field agents equipped with pistols.

How can such people and things exist in this world?

So the boy in the yellow raincoat might not be a product being secretly developed and protected by some company, nor a project that had mutated while under observation. The assault team's direct intrusion just now at least proves that even the Special Package Handling Department is unaware of his existence.

If you had known a little about the existence of the yellow raincoat, you would not have wasted these resources: this is simply throwing meat buns at a dog - no, if you really throw meat buns at a dog, maybe there would be some dough or something left.

He put down the clipping and stretched his tense shoulders:

Is the boy in the yellow raincoat the core of this vortex?

Impossible: As soon as this doubt arose, he denied it himself - all the clues known so far did not support this.

Instead, it was the divination tape that John Dou listened to before his death that gave Richard another idea:

Ah, a natural disaster. He's right, it really was. It was just bad luck, running into a murderous storm right out of the gate. A typhoon, a tornado, or some other natural disaster. An earthquake, a tsunami, a mudslide, or something like that. But this one can walk and talk. It's just luck, that's all.

【John has bad luck, really bad luck. 】

Another thought that makes people's spine shiver immediately appeared -

In other words: Did I just accidentally drag the guy in the yellow raincoat into this vortex?

So, will this vortex that can shatter a person into pieces become the mouthwash in someone's mouth for brushing teeth?

Perhaps the direction of the situation in the future is no longer predictable to any participant.

Richard grinned and laughed:

[Ha! Forget it, forget it. Now everyone is in trouble.]

The muddier the water, the greater his chances of survival—and Richard knew the weather was going to get bad before anyone else.

Looking down from his high vantage point, Richard saw red and blue lights flashing a block away - a police car was driving slowly along the narrow road between the alleys.

Someone called the police. And that person was not Richard.

This was also a signal of weakness: the commandos on hand were almost completely depleted and lacked support; they could only use this method to "borrow" local law enforcement resources to temporarily put an end to this matter.

This was another tactic used by the Special Package Handling Department; Richard was well aware of it. But he couldn't be certain. Perhaps, like Richard, they had come into contact with it and realized the horror it held, deciding there was no need to increase investment and continue to accrue sunk costs.

【Well, this is more likely.】

The section chief seemed to have unexpectedly few cards in Mong Cai: but this also confirmed Richard's guess - everything that is happening now, as well as the mission not long ago, were just private decisions made by the section chief, and it was impossible to mobilize too many other resources.

But the section chief is the section chief. She is not just an old woman. She has a joker in her hand that can change the game: I just don’t know if she can see that the thing in the yellow raincoat is a surprise to everyone?

The chief genuinely had no intention of negotiating—and he was so ruthless he'd barely even bothered to put on a show. If Richard had been alone in his apartment, facing this heavily armed group, he'd have been left with no room for negotiation and would have likely been reduced to a cold corpse. But Richard had learned not to expect anything from the Special Package Handling Division.

It was indeed a pleasant surprise that the boy in the yellow raincoat killed all the commandos, so the possibility of an ambush in the morgue was even lower.

So no matter what - the current situation is more in favor of Richard.

He let out a long breath and began to climb down from the tower crane, ready to step into a deeper vortex. The ladder was a little shaky, reminding Richard of the fickleness of fate.

It seems that choosing to observe first and then go to the morgue to search for clues is the right decision.

-

Chapter 37 Solidification

Doudou walked in front and the mathematician followed behind.

The street lights were dim and flickered from time to time; swarms of tiny insects, either moths or flies, formed tiny gray-black clouds and flew around the light sources.

Originally, the mathematician was walking faster - but he always felt a chill on his back, so he stumbled twice and fell behind Doudou. Looking at Doudou's yellow raincoat with bright red spots, he felt a sense of security.

But just now, a massacre had indeed occurred, and the vomit left at the corner of his mouth reminded him:

Didi didi dou——

As they exited the alley, they happened to pass a police car roaring past them. The streetlights were dim, but the flashing red and blue lights of the police car had a neon-like brightness, piercing through the surrounding humidity. But with just a fleeting glimpse, they passed through the mist of oil rising from the barbecue stall and entered the residential complex.

The mathematician hunched his neck, almost burying his entire head in his shirt collar; Doudou stood in place, turning his head and eyes like an ostrich, following the police car until it disappeared.

The food stalls, snack shops, and barbecue stalls in the alley also fell silent for a moment as the police car passed by.

Then the hustle and bustle returns; this is what midnight in Mong Cai is like.

So the two of them continued walking forward: no one noticed them in the streets filled with people playing dice, fifty-five, finger-guessing games, tape recorders singing loudly, and diners whispering after drinking.

Mathematicians don't know where they're going either--

After the shock and terror just now, the courage to control one's future destiny had long gone along with the lives of those corpses; they were just like sheep, following the shepherd.

But innate curiosity is another matter. After hesitating for a moment, the mathematician gave in to this uncontrollable desire:

"Doudou, you... do you practice Qigong?"

Doudou turned his head and glanced at him, his eyes full of doubts:

"No. I saw in a magazine that there were correspondence courses where they would send me videotapes or something like that."

"But I'm not sure if practicing qigong will affect young people's growth or cause other health problems. So I didn't buy it or learn it."

The mathematician frowned and chose another possibility that came to his mind:

"So you have special abilities? Like telekinesis or something? Aren't there always programs on TV that talk about that kind of thing?"

Doudou jumped up and down, his toes raised from time to time with his steps:

"Special abilities? I don't know; I don't think I have anything that amazing."

"I'm just strong—quite strong, I guess."

[.Stronger. Stronger? You're just stronger???]

The mathematician's ten fingers were about to tear the cardboard box in his arms.

Doudou turned his head and stared at the cardboard box held tightly in the mathematician's arms. It was already deformed, and now the materials inside were even more twisted.

They went out from the back door of Tianhu Community, but the mathematician did not take the pistol he dug out from the sofa. Instead, he hugged his box of materials tightly.

"Um, Math Uncle." Doudou leaned in closer, glancing at the wrinkled words on the cardboard box. "Oh! That was tear gas just now. Aren't your eyes swollen anymore? You seem to be recovering pretty quickly."

"And now we're running for our lives, so why are you still carrying this box? I thought scholars of your caliber kept everything in their heads."

Doudou couldn't make out the hieroglyphic formulas and numbers on the draft paper - he had never measured his intelligence level, but he just couldn't learn math well; it was as if he was born with a weak spot in this area.

The mathematician shook his head and hugged the cardboard box tighter: it was unclear whether he was answering Doudou's question or simply didn't want to discuss this topic with him.

Doudou always felt that there was something strange about this. But thinking about the math summer homework that he hadn't finished yet, he just let it go.

The two walked a few more steps, and the mathematician, as if finally opening up, took the initiative to speak again:

"Um, Doudou. You know—did you have a pet when you were a kid? If a pet died, your parents would tell you it was sent to live with relatives in the countryside, right? Many people tell their children that, but in reality, the cat or dog is dead."

"And what I mean is: you know those people up here are dead, right? Not like they were knocked unconscious and fell into a deep, heavy sleep or something like that—but dead forever? Killed? Unable to move again? Won't appear in this world again."

"Do you understand me? Did I make myself clear?"

Doudou frowned and squinted his eyes—but then his face turned into a bright smile:

"Of course I know—you saw me rip him in half. How could I not know? You take me for a kid. Oh! You're making a Batman joke. Hahahaha, you're quite funny."

The mathematician didn't understand what Doudou meant by the Batman joke, but he didn't dare pretend to agree.

"So tonight isn't your first time killing someone, is it?"

But - he just couldn't suppress the curiosity that was bursting out from within him; perhaps it was this bizarre night that made the mathematician want to know more even at the risk of his life.

The mathematician suddenly raised this question. As if sensing the answer to this question, he continued:

"What were you thinking about when you killed someone? What were you feeling?"

They just walked under the street light, and the bright light from above made the mathematician's glasses sparkle, making it impossible to see his eyes.

Doudou stopped and turned around. He looked at the mathematician with interest and suddenly smiled:

"Oh! Glad you asked me. I've wanted to talk about this before, but no one asked me."

"Actually, I don't really feel like I'm killing people. I feel like I'm solidifying their relationship with me. For example, if you die here now, your relationship with me will never change, won't it become eternal? You will always be my neighbor, and your identity to me will never change."

"Otherwise, if you move away, you'll no longer be my neighbor. Well, who wouldn't die? It seems like such people don't exist in real life."

"I read in a book that humans are the sum of their social relationships. So I thought, a human being needs friends. But what are friends? How can there be friends without enemies to distinguish them? But as for enemies—look, there are a lot of bad people, right? But bad people can't kill me."

"If they can't kill me when they're my enemy, then they'll want to be my friend, or stay away from me—that's going to be troublesome. I don't want to be friends with bad people, I need bad people to be my enemies. And if the bad people run away, then the relationship between us won't be pure anymore. What if they want to be friends with me secretly? That would be so presumptuous!"

"So—whenever I meet a bad guy, he dies: he will be my enemy forever! The rest of the people can be my friends. Sounds reasonable, doesn't it?"

"Those people just now wanted to capture you, kidnap you, or kill you, didn't they? And they broke into someone's house without permission, so they must be bad people - oh yeah! They even walked into someone's house with their shoes on, they are so scary."

Doudou paused, then started walking again. He seemed to be at a loss for words, feeling embarrassed.

"Ah, indeed; it is clear when I think it, but it comes out all jumbled up, oh no."

The mathematician walked behind. He felt as if his heart suddenly turned into a heavy stone, smashing along the xiphoid process of his sternum into his stomach, and suddenly dragging his body.

"No, it's okay. I see what you mean. You're very articulate—er, you make your point very well."

"I will never move away. I will live in Tianhu Community for the rest of my life. I will be buried here even if I die."

He lowered his head and scratched his scalp near his temple. The tape on the legs of his glasses was wet by the cold sweat that suddenly overflowed from his scalp, and it was sticking to his ears and making him feel uncomfortable. At this moment, he realized that his situation was even worse than he had imagined, much worse.

The only one who can help him now is the mathematician. He doesn't know what to call Doudou - but one thing is for sure, it is definitely not a human being.

Chapter 38 Police Station

They stood at the bus stop, waiting for the bus that hadn't arrived yet. Doudou slipped two fifty-cent coins into the coin slot of the ticket machine and took a picture of the square button with "Route 20" written on it.

Sizzle, sizzle--

With the sound of printing, two receipts were spit out from the platform. Doudou took one and handed it to the mathematician:

"Hey! Speaking of which, I suddenly remembered something."

Doudou moved his thumb away to avoid getting it stained with fresh ink:

"I forgot to bring my homework—but there's no way I can go back and get it now. Damn it! I was thinking I'd take the bus and you could help me with the homework while I was there."

Because he had to go out, Doudou went back home and put on his usual pair of Warrior shoes; but he ended up forgetting his most important summer homework.

"Oh, it's really inconvenient to go back now. Forget it, wait until I finish everything today, and then you can start helping me with my math homework tomorrow!"

The mathematician stared at the receipt between his fingers, as if this was the only piece of paper in the world worthy of his attention:

"Well, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have left the community? Those people who helped me might not be able to find me."

He paused, and finally uttered a low sentence:

"--How about we go back now? I can go to your house and help you with your homework. The police will probably only search my apartment; they won't come to your place."

Doudou reached out and grabbed the mathematician's arm. His fingers dug into his flesh like iron hoops, causing the mathematician to grimace in pain.

"Eh? Didn't I just tell you that those guys who might want to help you are the bad guys?"

"And what's more! Do you think the detectives are all idiots? We're doing our summer homework right in front of them, squatting next to a crime scene? Do you think we're in a sitcom? Are we supposed to just walk right past the Serious Crime Unit?"

"And do you want to stay there and get caught? It's okay if you get caught, but it will be a big trouble if I don't finish my homework--"

Before they could finish their words, the bus stopped in front of them with a cloud of exhaust fumes and the sound of cicadas chirping.

-

The last bus in Mong Cai usually runs at 10:30 pm. The only exception is bus No. 20, which runs across the city.

Because of this, bus number 20 often appears in local ghost stories in Mong Cai. However, the authenticity of these stories is debatable – Doudou has taken it many times in the middle of the night, hoping to encounter some ghosts or monsters, but in the end, he didn't encounter any strange anecdotes.

At most, drunks would fight in the car - grabbing the handrails, rings and seats in the bus, and beating each other like performing gymnastics at high speed; this was quite exciting, and Doudou felt that it was as entertaining as wrestling.

But unlike usual days, Bus No. 20 was driving slowly today: it had none of the momentum of speeding on the main road.

The bus was empty. Apart from the driver, there were only two passengers, Doudou and the mathematician, huddled at the back. The bus's sound system was a bit broken, and the sound of "Purple Rain" was playing in a high-and-low pitch, sounding like a ghost's cry.

The mathematician buried his head in the cardboard box and muttered softly:

"I probably shouldn't have left Singapore. If I had turned myself in earlier, I might have been cleared of all charges by now."