Human memory is wonderful. It can remember shapes, breath, and sounds. People can remember the sound of other people's footsteps, but they can remember the rhythm of different footsteps.
Everyone's footsteps have its own rhythm. If you are not very familiar with it, it is difficult to easily distinguish the subtle rhythmic differences in the footsteps.
But the sound of footsteps outside the door was only the second time that Zhao Yuankun heard it, but it seemed to be deeply imprinted in his mind, deep and clear.
This is the sound of footsteps that I heard outside Qianjiang’s house that night in Tokyo.
Every step is like stepping on water, and every step is like stepping out of a drop of water.
This is the sound of footsteps walking in heavy rain.
Qian Jiang came to find himself.
His legs remained in the bathroom, and the whereabouts of the other bodies were unknown, and he still took his footsteps to find this place. This is Hunan, and the room in Tokyo is separated by the sea.
At dawn the next day, Zhao Yuankun got up in a trance and opened the curtains. The early morning light shone on the blue brick floor in the yard, and there was nothing in the middle of the lotus tank and the well.
He squeezed the door handle, unlocked it, slowly pushed the handle down, and opened the door, naturally there was nothing, he touched the outside handle, there was a little bit of dry particles, and he twisted it in the palm of his hand. not sure what it is.
Zhao Yuankun bent down and looked at the steps of each stairway. The wet footsteps should leave footprints.
Zhao Yuankun looked carefully, and every step of the stairs appeared dark red. That was their original color. There was nothing else.
"Kunyako." An old voice suddenly sounded, startling Zhao Yuankun.
An old face appeared at the corner of the stairs, and it was Peng's mother.
Peng’s mother was hired by the family to come to see the house. She was the only one of the older relatives, and she took care of Zhao Yuankun for a while as a child.
"Peng Ma." Zhao Yuankun yelled.
Mother Peng had no expression on her face as old as a tree bark. She rolled her eyes and looked at him, "What are you looking at."
She was standing at the corner of the stairs, unable to see the whole body, her voice was erratic, as if she could only hold her breath. Zhao Yuankun suddenly felt that if such a person came to see the house, wouldn't he really add a lonely corpse to this house
"The ground." Zhao Yuankun walked a few steps down, "see if there are any footprints."
"Nothing." Ma Peng turned and walked down, her footsteps pausing, as if stepping on a drum, "It's been delayed."
She has the habit of getting up early and mopping the floor.
cold. Ma Peng gave him the feeling of coldness, indifference, and indifference.
Zhao Yuankun couldn't help recalling, was that Peng Ma when she was a child, so she refused to be like this? Or does time play its role in killing emotions in a person
Zhao Yuankun can't remember. The mother Peng in the memory is far away and vague, just like the mother Peng before her, which is incomprehensible.
In the yard, the fragrance of plants and the smell of earth are also very strong. Zhao Yuankun walked straight to the well and looked down. The brick engraved with the word "Guangxu Year" was on the inner side not far from the mouth of the well. Look at the lotus jar. This year The lotus seeds hadn't been planted yet, and the silt was lying quietly under the clear water.
Nothing strange.
He bent down and looked at the green brick floor carefully, it was covered with moss, but there seemed to be nothing else.
Disturbing. (End of this chapter)