Wang Shen glanced at the garbage collector, then turned to walk towards the apartment building. He stopped after a few steps, turning back to stare at the busy collector. His gaze gradually shifted from the collector to the garbage can. He took a few steps back, observing the can from a distance, then looked up. The garbage can was located slightly to the left, directly below Han Mo's balcony. Wang Shen remembered the bloodstains on the windowsill of Han Mo's balcony. A thought suddenly flashed through his mind. He walked towards the busy garbage collector.

"Hello. Hello." Wang Shen called out twice, and the uncle who was tidying up the trash cans stopped what he was doing, turned around and glanced at Wang Shen.

"Are you calling me? What's up?" The middle-aged man looked Wang Shen up and down before turning back to his work.

"Have you always been in charge of the garbage collection here?" Wang Shen asked, pointing to the construction vehicle parked not far away.

"Yes, what's wrong?" The uncle asked without turning around.

"Excuse me, sir, how many years have you been working?"

"I'm busy, I don't have time to chat." The middle-aged man finally stopped what he was doing, turned to look at Wang Shen, waved his hand, and his messy stubble on his face piled up slightly, showing some impatience.

Wang Shen smiled apologetically, patted his pocket, took out a crisp 100-yuan bill, and handed it to the uncle.

"What's this?" The middle-aged man looked at the hundred-yuan bill in his hand suspiciously, his fingers gripping it tightly. Then he glanced at Wang Shen suspiciously, his impatience completely gone, and he stopped working altogether.

"Don't worry, it's nothing serious. I just wanted to ask you something. Just answer truthfully," Wang Shen said with a smile, staring at the uncle.

"Are you a policeman?" the man asked, looking at Wang Shen, but Wang Shen didn't answer. "Fine, it's none of my business anyway. But let's make one thing clear: if what I know doesn't satisfy you, I won't give you your money back." With that, the man put the money in his pocket.

"Don't worry about that. How many years have you been in charge of cleaning up the garbage in this area?"

"I've been doing this for most of my life. I have no choice. I'm illiterate and don't have any special skills, so this is the only thing I can do." The uncle sighed heavily and tugged at his large gloves.

"Did you come here to dispose of garbage on the night of June 18th, three years ago?"

"Of course, I come every day without fail."

"About what time did you arrive?"

"Around nine o'clock at night," the uncle replied without hesitation, giving the approximate time he collected the garbage that day.

"How can you remember so clearly after all this time?" Wang Shen was amazed by the uncle's memory. Unless one has a very strong impression of something that happened three years ago, the memory will fade over time.

"Of course, because this is my normal working hours. I used to come here to deal with the garbage every night around nine o'clock." The uncle took off his large plastic gloves, threw them aside, took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, took two deep drags, and exhaled a few carefree smoke rings.

Wang Shen glanced at his watch; it was just past seven. "So, why are you here so early today?"

“I already said, the 9 AM start time was before. We got a few complaints about disturbing the peace, so the company adjusted our working hours. The people who live here, humph, they think they're so much more noble than us. They're just a bunch of sparrows hiding in a tenement building.” At this point, the uncle was clearly very dissatisfied with the residents of this area, raising his voice and blowing out several smoke rings. “However, I heard that a great writer used to live here. His name was… what was it again? Oh, right, Han Mo.”

"Oh? You know about this too?"

"Are you looking down on us garbage collectors or what? We also watch the news and keep up with society." The middle-aged man flicked the ash from his cigarette, glanced at Wang Shen, and felt slighted. "Huh? June 18th, three years ago? Isn't that the date that writer committed suicide? I remember finishing collecting garbage that day, and when I woke up the next day, her news was everywhere. It's such a pity. I don't know what she was thinking. Beautiful, young, and rich. If I were her, I wouldn't have died. She must be crazy. But, for someone so rich to live here is also definitely crazy." The middle-aged man reminisced about that day while expressing his feelings.

"Did you see or hear anything strange that day?" Wang Shen was somewhat pleased, as if the hundred yuan he had just spent hadn't been wasted. Perhaps he could glean some valuable clues from this uncle.

"Something strange?" The middle-aged man took two more puffs of his cigarette, threw the remaining butt on the ground, and stomped on it twice. "When I got off the bus, I saw a man walking out of this building. I don't know if that counts."

"A man? Do you remember what this man looks like?" Wang Shen was very interested in the clue provided by the uncle.

Unfortunately, the man shook his head. "Look at these damn streetlights here, what difference does it make whether they're there or not? At the time, the person was quite a distance away from me, and I couldn't see his face at all."

Wang Shen picked up his notebook, nodding as he took notes. "Besides that? Did you encounter anything else strange?"

"Anything else?" The middle-aged man frowned and took out a second cigarette from his pack. "Oh, right, I also heard something being thrown down from upstairs."

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