Chapter 1 Children 1

We're about to rob the video store.

In the 1990s, video stores specialized in renting videotapes. Videotapes were a derivative of magnetic tapes, used to record and play videos. Back then, people didn't have computers or cell phones, and streaming media wasn't an option. To watch a movie, you either had to buy a ticket to a theater and see a set schedule, or rent a videotape from a video store.

These shops are typically small. Upon entering, the first thing you see is rows of supermarket-style iron shelves lined with colorfully packaged videotapes. Chinese-language films like Jet Li's "Shaolin Temple," Jackie Chan's "Police Story," and Stephen Chow's "Fight Back to School" are among the most popular. They also offer a wide selection of international films, including French romances, Japanese horrors, and Korean tearjerkers. If you're lucky, you might even find the latest Hollywood blockbuster showing in theaters, saving money on movie tickets for your entire family and even your neighbors.

The music store we were targeting was located in a damp alleyway, so damp that even cars couldn't get in. It was one of a row of low-slung houses. The storefront was old, its narrow windows exposed to the fumes from the barbecue restaurant next door, leaving it looking like oiled paper.

"You only have one thing to do," Zheng Kun instructed me. "Stand in front of the music store. If anyone passes by, bark like a dog to signal us. Easy, right?"

"It will take us about half an hour to move the goods from the second floor. During this time, you have to concentrate on observing the situation and not be distracted at all, understand?" Zhang Zhihao added.

I nodded stiffly.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine." Zheng Kun patted my shoulder, grinning like a toad. "We were the ones who stole the videotape. Even though you got the key, no one has any evidence to prove it."

"But what if the owner comes back for something? What if a patrolling policeman passes by?" I groaned.

He suppressed his smile and said, "Shut up. You and I are two grasshoppers tied to the same rope. If you don't want to go to juvenile detention, just cooperate honestly."

He pushed me from behind, and I stumbled out of the alley's secluded corner. I nearly fell as I approached the music store. I thought I'd tripped over a rock, but the ground was clean. It was just my legs that gave way.

What a fool I am, I sighed and commented to myself.

What went wrong? I was just an ordinary student, how could I have ended up having to assist in a crime?

During the summer vacation when I was eleven, my parents were still married, but they had long been considering divorce. My mother blamed herself for not finding a good man, while my father believed he had been trapped by a bad woman.

Perhaps out of consideration for my presence, the two seemed to have agreed to maintain the status quo for now. But no matter how they pretended to be nonchalant, I could still smell the oppressive atmosphere and felt completely uneasy about staying home. I spent the entire day wandering around outside.

I live in a small northern city called Chengguan, with a population of less than one million. The city has a very short history. It was only after the founding of the People's Republic of China that coal mines were discovered and it was upgraded to a prefecture-level city and developed. One-third of the city's population depends on the coal industry for their livelihood, and the city is full of residential areas for families affiliated with state-owned mining enterprises. It is more like an enlarged family compound than a small city. In the 1990s, there was only one four-lane main road here that was qualified to be called a "street", and the locals also called it "Central Street". This road, only 500 meters long, is home to dozens of commercial shops, selling a wide variety of goods. You never know what you will find on the shelves.

The shop that captivated me the most was an arcade. In the days before internet cafes, it was the only place to play video games. Since smoking was strictly prohibited, the arcade was perpetually shrouded in smoke, creating a dreadful environment. But this didn't dampen the enthusiasm of gamers, and during holidays, it was always packed. Under the dim light, countless pairs of eyes stared at the same screen, laughing, chatting, sighing, and pointing.

My daily food allowance was two yuan, which I could redeem at the arcade for ten game coins. Addicted to the then-hottest fighting game, The King of Fighters 97, my breakfast and lunch vanished into the dark slots, like silvery game coins. When I ran out of money, I'd stand behind the expert players, starving, and watch, studying their techniques.

Perhaps it's hard work that pays off, or perhaps I simply have a natural talent for gaming. In just two weeks, I've gone from beginner to a completely transformed player. I've mastered advanced techniques like small jumps, shadow jumps, rapid low jumps, containment, suppression, and defensive switching to perfection. I've even set a record of 28 consecutive wins, dominating the machine for an entire afternoon with just one coin. Whenever I sit down at the poker table, I'm surrounded by spectators.

But this also brought danger. Unlike the bright and glittering campus, arcades belonged to a dangerous underground world. Besides children relying on pocket money, all sorts of idlers and idlers frequented these places, and the two groups frequently crossed paths. Although I was aware of this danger, I couldn't resist the allure of video games.

Every time the dazzling "KO" flashed on the screen, signifying I'd once again defeated the challenger on the other side of the machine with a flick of the joystick, a chorus of exclamations and cheers would inevitably echo around me. At that moment, a surge of indescribable pleasure would surge through my body, like an electric current coursing through my nerves. If I hadn't experienced the arcade battle game craze, my life would have been very different! Years later, I had this thought. Others would probably laugh, right? But for me, that's just how it was.

On a hot afternoon in mid-July, I faced a challenger who was completely clueless about his own abilities. A typical opponent, after losing two or three games in a row, would have recognized the difference in skill and fled in disgrace. But this time, my opponent kept fighting, challenging me for over ten games. Unfortunately, my skills were so poor that I even managed to finish the final game unscathed.

The people watching the fun had already started to sneer, and I couldn't help but get carried away. "With this level, go back and practice for ten years before trying again."

"Fuck, what did you say!" There was a sound of slamming keys on the table from the other side, and a fat man stood up, looking like a wall of flesh appeared out of thin air.

I was startled and quickly slipped off the aluminum chair to run away, but as soon as I walked out of the store, I was grabbed by the back of the collar.

"You bastard, I'll smash your ignorant face into pieces!" The fat man roared in anger. He was at least a high school student, and his arms were thicker than my thighs.

I tried to pry his wrists apart, but unlike in the game, he easily neutralized my counterattack with brute force and lifted my feet off the ground.

I watched him clench his right fist and swing it towards my face, but he was stopped by another tall and thin boy, "Don't be so embarrassed."

The fat man froze, then obediently let go. I fell headfirst, clutching the ground, gasping for breath. The tall, thin boy reached out and kindly helped me up.

"Sorry, my friend has a bad temper," the boy said with a smile. His T-shirt was wrinkled, and his jeans were washed pale. Combined with his cynical expression, they looked incredibly cool and handsome.

"It's okay." I turned around and ran, but failed because he didn't let go.

"How about buying you an ice-cold Coke as an apology? By the way, your gaming skills are truly amazing."

We drank soda together, and the atmosphere immediately relaxed, even becoming more harmonious. The fat guy, Zhang Zhihao, was a quiet man. The taller one, Zheng Kun, kept praising my skill. I felt proud again and taught them a number of operating techniques, most of which I had discovered myself. In an era without the internet and strategy guides, these were the equivalent of the secret manuals in martial arts novels. They both nodded in understanding.

After that, I often ran into them at the arcade. Zheng Kun always greeted me warmly, treated me to food and drinks, and even helped me put in the coins. I was a little embarrassed, but he always said, "We are friends, why be polite?"

In fact, I really enjoyed making friends with them. Being on good terms with people so much older than me felt like I'd already taken the next step in life. Besides, I'd already sunk all my allowance into gaming, and I hadn't had a cold drink since summer began. The arcade was sweltering, with only an old-fashioned fan creaking and barely operating. It was hard to resist an iced drink that was delivered to my doorstep.

One day in late July, Zheng Kun asked if I wanted to go to the arcade in the neighboring provincial capital. They had the latest arcade machines, far superior to anything we had in our little town. It was a two-hour drive, and he paid for the tickets. I couldn't resist, so I followed them to the long-distance bus station.

On the way, Zheng Kun touched his pocket and said, "Oh no, I forgot to bring money." Helplessly, we had to go home with him to get money.

His home is located on an old street deep in a residential area. It's a two-story building with a sign that says "Chess and Card Room" hanging on it. The roller shutter door is locked. He squatted down and fiddled with the door lock for a long time, muttering, "This lock has been rusted for a long time, but my dad won't change it."

"His family runs a mahjong parlor. It's closed in the morning, and his parents sleep on the second floor." Zhang Zhihao explained to me.

As he spoke, Zheng Kun finally unlocked the door. Pulling it upward, the shutter door made a startling, strange noise, rising to about half a person's height before stopping.

"Strange, is it stuck?" Zheng Kun said to himself, and asked us to help lift it, but the door still remained motionless.

He scratched his head. "Looks like I need to call someone to fix it."

"Forget it," Zhang Zhihao said reluctantly, "If you keep making trouble, you won't be able to go anywhere today."

"That's true. If I wake up my old man, he'll definitely ask me to help with the chores." His eyes fell on me, anxious and pleading. "You're short. Can you help me go in and look under the first drawer of the counter and get some money out?"

I agreed without hesitation. On the one hand, I really wanted to go to the arcade to see what it was like, but on the other hand, I didn't want to disappoint my friend.

The store was pitch black. I ducked inside, but within a few steps I kicked over a metal bucket and nearly fell.

"Be quiet, don't wake up my parents." Zheng Kun scolded in a low voice through the door.

"I can't see anything!"

"Go to the right by feeling the wall. There's a light switch there."

I inched my way to the corner, finally finding the concave and convex shape of the switch. The incandescent lights flickered on, revealing a deserted hall, save for a dozen or so mahjong tables. To the left of the door was the counter Zheng Kun had mentioned, its drawers neatly stacked with sorted change. Coins were the most numerous, bound in strips of brown paper. Banknotes were in three bundles: five-yuan, ten-yuan, and the largest, fifty-yuan. I pulled out a fifty-yuan note.

I scrambled out from under the shutters, my hair covered in dust. Zhang Zhihao couldn't hide his excitement. He flared his nostrils, rubbed his hands, and asked, "Did you get the money?"

I waved the banknotes, and he was quite disappointed. "That's all."

"That's enough for today." Zheng Kun tried to smooth things over.

Fifty yuan proved to be a pittance in a big city. The arcade's game coins were worth the same as one-yuan coins, and we'd spent a fortune playing games all afternoon. We were starving, and Zheng Kun generously treated us to spicy hot pot. Chicken, chicken wings, quail eggs, beef, tripe, red shrimp, duck blood... all meat dishes, filling three full bowls. When it came time to pay, he gave away all the remaining change.

"It's spent so quickly. I'll go to the mahjong stall to get some tomorrow." Zhang Zhihao said as he picked his teeth with his little finger.

"Not tomorrow. If we do it too frequently, the old man will notice. Let's wait a few days."

I frowned and asked suspiciously, "Your dad won't give you pocket money?"

The two looked at each other and laughed at the same time, which made me full of doubts.

"That bald mahjong stall owner is not my dad. My dad got into trouble a few years ago and is still in jail." Zheng Kun's mouth corners rose slightly, making him look like he was smiling, but the light in the depths of his pupils was always cold.

"But didn't you just say..."

"Do you know why I asked you to get the money?"

"Because I'm short?"

"Because we don't want to leave fingerprints." He leaned close to my ear and whispered, "By the way, let me tell you a secret. When opening a rolling door, if two people press down at the same time, the third person won't be able to lift it up no matter how hard they try."