I felt that I was being lifted up and carried by someone as if I got into some kind of car. It felt like an ambulance. I lay down and went to sleep in peace.
When I woke up again, I was already in the hospital. The ward was dark, with only a small bedside lamp on, and everything else in the ward seemed to be shrouded in mist and hidden in darkness. Relying on the dim light from that lamp, I caught a glimpse of a person lying beside my hospital bed—my editor friend B
He seemed to have been waiting by the side.
When I supported the bed and got up, he seemed to be awakened. I saw him look up, look at me and smiled, and said, "Are you okay?"
I saw that he had obvious dark circles under his eyes.
"Fine," I replied, "What day is it?"
"Thursday. Early morning." He looked up at his watch. "Three o'clock."
So I slept for two days, which is a bit long.
"... your husband's body was sent to the police for an autopsy," said my editor friend B. "His parents knew about it."
"That's it," I replied.
"His father couldn't stand the stimulus and jumped from the sixth floor, but he couldn't get back. His mother couldn't bear his death, so she took a knife and stabbed the bamboo horse. She was caught when she failed." he continued.
"How is she?" I asked.
My editor friend B smiled at me. Under the dim light, his smile had an inexplicable sense of strangeness, which made me feel palpitations in my heart for a moment. "What do you want her to do?" said he. "It's time for the show to come to an end."
"What are you talking about?" I asked back with feigned anger, "Of course I hope my husband's mother is well." Get the hell out. I silently added the second half of the sentence in my heart.
"I'm not joking with you." He laughed abruptly, "She seems to be a little out of her mind, since she failed to kill her, she has been chanting things like let the bamboo horse die, and she doesn't answer what others say If you are interested, you can invite her to a mental hospital."
I shrugged, said "Oh", and asked, "Where's the bamboo horse?"
My editor friend B was silent for a while, then said: "He seems to have temporarily lost his ability to communicate, but who knows if he will recover someday. He is bleeding when he sees people now."
Flowing halazi, that's like a dog, I thought, if I imagine that, I can only think of dogs.
"Do you want to meet him?" my editor friend B asked. "He's right outside the door."