"What happened to your car?" she asked.
"Car accident" I raised my injured hand as evidence. "It's not my fault. I came back from the sea on Highway 6. A guy in the other direction wanted to overtake and knocked me off the road."
"This sounds terrible. "Number 6 is a terrible highway", she agreed.
"I promise to be careful."
"Oh, dear, I know you will be careful, that damn Buick is too big, even if you are not careful, you have nothing to worry about," she said with a smile. She walked to her purse, took out her car keys, and handed them to me. "Of course you can borrow a Buick, but there is one condition."
"Anything will do," I said.
"We can rent a movie and take it out from that great little Thai restaurant, the one you suggested to us when Charlie died, and a bottle of wine. Will it be sold?"
I laughed. This situation is not new. We rent a movie about every other month. Ingrid was funny. When she started drinking, she cursed like a sailor and told the dirtiest joke I've ever heard.
"You got it," the key is mine.
"Have fun, dear. Buick will take as long as possible," she said, sitting in a chair. As soon as she sat down, Boots jumped on her lap and curled up, claiming to occupy his territory.
Buick is a ship. It handles it well, thank goodness it is automatic, so I can drive it with one hand decently. I drove with the window down, enjoying the heat of the sauna on my face and arms. It was a Sunday night and there were few vehicles on the road.
I found the address soon. There are warehouses and factories everywhere. The cháo stream of cute, stylish and new cháo has not yet reached this blue-collar class. A factory across the street crumpled up the night shift. Thick smoke billowed into the sky.
I parked the car on the street. I parallel the parking beast with one hand. Not only was I lucky to find a large enough parking space, but also nailed it on the first turn. I am very proud, especially because my neck hurts and I can hardly turn my head. Did I mention that the spot is huge
I got off as soon as I parked. I know that if I sit in the car a little longer, I will lose my courage. I was very nervous and had too much caffeine to sleep. I stretched my trouser legs, as if this could improve my overall image, and then took a deep breath.
The address on the note belongs to a small warehouse located at the highway bridge yīn. If possible, the shadow cast by the bridge will have a deeper and more serious impact on the building than the neighboring buildings. The exterior wall is brickwork, and it is full of graffiti, not interesting street art type graffiti. Most of it was swearing and rude body parts spray paint. Beside a sign that seemed to be illegally invaded, someone sprayed the words: All offenders will be slowly and painfully eaten. Parts of the body. Even children. Especially children.
The door seemed strangely disproportionately constructed, like a big, small mouth on the head of a giant. It is made of wood, with wide copper strips on the top and bottom. In design, it looks like an ancient oriental. A symbol I didn't recognize was burned on the door's face, almost as high as my eyes. The wood on the door gleamed, and the bronzes were polished gleamingly. It forms a sharp, bright and perfect contrast with the rest of the shaky building.
The temperature by the door dropped by twenty degrees. I got goose bumps on my arms and the hairs on my neck stood up. I almost turned around four times. Raising my hand and knocking on the door, I noticed a graffiti Hangman game with a white chalk drawing right at the door. The executioner's limbs were sound and he even had a melancholy, frowning face. The dashes under the gallows were almost all letters.
I knocked on the door.
The sound of my knock on the door seemed to be absorbed by the wooden door. I can feel the tap on my knuckles, but I can't hear it.
I knocked hard on the door. Just as I was about to knock on the door for the third time, the door slowly opened inwards. The other side of the door was pitch black. The only thing I can recognize is the height of the two eyes, the green reflection flashed for a while, and then disappeared.
"I'm playing a game of executioner," before the low-voiced man, he walked out of the dark inner warehouse and stood at the door. The solitary lamp hung on the outer wall of the building higher than the street number, emitting a watery gray light, illuminating him half-heartedly. "Would you like to guess a letter?"
He is of medium build. He looks Asian--I think he is Rì himself, with short black hair. His face is wide, with prominent high cheekbones, and a strong chin with sharp edges and corners. He is wearing what I call karate pants. I'm pretty sure that's not their "official" name, and I won't call them "karate pants" loudly, but that's what he wore-black karate pants, nothing more.
If I could avoid his eyes, I might notice his biceps, his muscular broad chest and his horny feet. His yellow and green eyes pinned me—like a butterfly placed in a specimen box; I looked away from them and just looked back.
Before I knew it, I took two big steps back. He took two considerable steps forward and completely passed the doorway. He folded his arms across his chest. The heat radiated from him in the form of waves. The coolness that accompanied his door had disappeared.
"Do you want to play?" He meant "Still standing there with big mouth?"
Now that I am here, I realize that I don't even know what I have to say. I should practice because my head is completely blank. I have nothing.
"I need help," I said at last.
"Go away," he backed out from the door. He was about to close the door.
"A nurse at the seaside hospital said you might be able to help me. I was something wrong and I need help. She said you can help."
He smiled, not very friendly. His teeth are white and shiny, and very sharp. I noticed for the first time that his arms were full of deep tattoos. Both arms have tattoos similar to tiger stripes. Unlike the traditional tiger markings of orange and black, the markings are orange, yellow, purple and blue. They were alive and energetic, starting at his wrist, cutting back and forth along his arm, and cutting to the top of his shoulder.
On his chest, on his heart, a horse was tattooed. The horse is standing on its hind legs, painted with deep purple, green, and blue inks. Its eyes are yellow and green, full of anger. The mane of this horse is the same orange as the tiger orange. It rushed from behind with majesty, its mane was orange, and where there were tiger stripes on its shoulders and arms, the mane flowed together.
"Please come in," he stepped back, waving a tiger-striped arm in his hand.
I took a deep breath and walked in.
The room we entered was very dark, but not completely without light, as it looked from the outside. I stepped back and let my eyes adjust. With the help of evenly spaced skylights, I began to recognize the things in the room.
There are large pots of bamboo on both sides of the door. There are several. Taller than me. I passed them. It feels like walking through a bamboo forest. Bamboo gives way to the open space. I can hear the water spray from the fountain in the distance. A large carp pond is cut deep into the concrete floor. The koi with orange beard swam in circles. As I walked by, a koi swam onto the water. His mouth opened and closed, as if talking. He looked straight at me with human eyes.
A yellow candle was lit in a corner of the huge room. A huge black mat lay horizontally on the floor, surrounded by thoughtful martial arts equipment.
yīn shadow.
There are shadows everywhere, I can’t tell what caused it. There is not enough furniture or objects in the room to explain the shadow on the wall and the long shadow on the floor.
I followed the man through a spacious and open room into a long, dark corridor. More yellow candles light up the corridor. The door, here and there, interrupted the long walls on either side of the corridor. All the doors are closed.
I should bring the wolf spray can in my wallet.
At the end of the corridor is a red door.
The man stopped and turned to face me.
He cleared his throat. I flinched.
His eyes swept across my body, looking at me. He could see that I was scared. I can see that he is very happy and I am afraid.
I put my healthy hand in my pocket. My nerves started to approach me, and my hands vibrated on my legs. I try to keep it still.
"Did you tell anyone you were here?" he asked.
I do not have. This is stupid.
"Of course," I lied.
He laughed, didn't laugh, haha, you laughed so funny. More of it haha, yes, you laughed stupidly.
He waved his hand and opened the red door.
"You first please," he said.
I stood there motionless.
The room we are going to enter is completely dark.
"A penny is exchanged for a pound," he said.
"I'll be there soon," I said.
He laughed again.
I wish he stopped laughing.
He walked into the room first, and I followed. He turned on the light switch next to the door, and there was plenty of light in the dark room.
This room is a study. There is a large wooden table in the middle and wooden bookshelves on the wall. They are completely filled with old-looking, bound text. A beautiful blown glass chandelier hangs in the room Zhōng Yāng. The light it emits is bright and pleasant, illuminating every corner of the room. There is no shadow here.
I breathe smoothly. It's not that he can't do terrible things to me in this beautiful room like in other places, but this possibility seems even smaller. There is a feeling of peace, a feeling of calm and tranquility.
A black leather chair is placed in the sales department of the desk, and a red visitor chair is placed on the other side. He sat on the side of the office, leaned back on the old leather chair, and propped his feet on the table.
"Sit," he said, motioning me to sit in the red guest seat. "Let's introduce ourselves first, and then discuss why you are here and how you think I can help you. My name is Akio. What is your name?"
"Abigail Neely," I said. I sit in a chair gently, ready to jump up and escape, if things get to that point.
"Knock on a stranger's door late at night. Either you are desperate, or you are very stupid, especially in this community. Stupid people are always coming in and out. The same goes for desperate people. My neighbor is less welcome than me. Which one is it?" he said. "Desperate or stupid?"
"Yeah. Both," I said. "I became keenly aware that I was both. I wanted to call, but the nurse only gave me an address and no phone number."
"May I have a look?" He held out his hand. I took the folded card out of my pocket and handed it to him.
He looked at it.
"Chiyoko," he said, smiling softly. He stroked the handwritten text with his thumb, put the card on his nose, took a deep breath, then opened the drawer and closed it. "I will help you." (to be continued) (end of this chapter)