Chapter 3: Picking Up a Post-Apocalyptic Girl
A stern-faced policeman stood before me, his roar like thunder, deafening and resounding:
"Zhuang Cheng, you've broken the law, do you even know that?!"
“That girl is a murderer with many lives on her hands. You not only secretly possessed firearms and ammunition, but you also protected and harbored her!”
"You are an accomplice, she is her accomplice!"
I couldn't meet his gaze, so I quickly covered my ears and turned around, only to see my parents standing behind me, their tone and eyes revealing utter disappointment.
“We spend money to raise you and send you to university, not to cultivate a criminal who disrupts social stability.”
"Give up and go to jail. Don't contact us again after you get out."
"We don't have a son like you..."
My friend appeared before me, but after meeting my gaze, he quickly backed away and spoke to me from a distance:
"Ah Cheng, I never thought you would actually break the law..."
"Don't tell anyone you know me anymore. I don't have a friend like you, and I don't want to be dragged into this by you..."
The surroundings were plunged into complete darkness, then the light came back on.
Under the glaring lights, a judge looked down at me from above, announcing in a solemn yet merciless voice:
"The defendant Zhuang Cheng harbored and concealed a murderer, illegally possessed firearms and ammunition, and showed no remorse. The circumstances were serious, and he was sentenced to life imprisonment for multiple crimes, to be carried out immediately!"
"!!!"
-
A feeling of imbalance, a violent impact, and pain.
I suddenly snapped back to reality.
But the surroundings weren't my familiar bedroom.
Two seconds passed before I sluggishly came to my senses. It turned out everything before was a nightmare; I had rolled over on the sofa and fallen to the floor. This was my living room, sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I could faintly hear the sounds of city life.
It's already daytime.
Why am I sleeping on the sofa in the living room...?
Oh right, last night I gave my bedroom bed to that mysterious beautiful girl I picked up from outside... This part wasn't a dream.
As I sorted out the jumbled thoughts in my mind, I stood up, using the sofa as a support. Then I noticed the metal object on the sofa.
It's a pistol.
Last night, instead of going to sleep in the living room right away, I kept fiddling with the toy gun. While I wouldn't actually make "real guns are a man's romance" my motto, I was indeed deeply attracted to it before. While fiddling with the toy gun, I imagined aiming at imaginary enemies and firing, aiming at the dining table, refrigerator, and television in the house one by one, and I enjoyed it immensely.
I wasn't afraid of accidental discharge. In action movies, I often see characters get into danger because they forgot to unlock the safety on their guns. Although I know very little about guns themselves, I'm particularly impressed by safety mechanisms. I had brought my laptop to the living room earlier, and combined with some information I found online, I discovered that the safety on this handgun was unlocked beforehand, so I locked it first.
However, no matter what, a real gun is a real gun; it's a terrifying weapon that can easily take lives. If the authorities discover that I possess firearms without authorization and harbor an extremely dangerous murderer, the scenes from my nightmares will become a cruel reality, instantly ruining my future.
No, no... We can't be sure yet that the girl is the murderer. I know nothing about her.
How is she now? Has she woken up? Could she have already secretly left?
I picked up the pistol and hid it behind my back, then nervously moved to the bedroom door.
The empty can remained motionless on the doorknob, just as it had been the night before. I breathed a sigh of relief, took the can down, and then, like a character in a zombie game, silently pushed the door open and peered inside.
Fortunately, the girl was still in the bedroom. She lay on the bed like an empty can, without any change, with only her slightly raised chest rising and falling rhythmically with her breathing.
After a night, the blood on her body was no longer fresh, but had turned into a dried, dark, congealed substance.
If you ignore the specks of blood on her cheeks and the dirty, tattered blue and white striped hospital gown, her innocent sleeping face clearly looks like that of a pure and lovely girl next door, with no connection whatsoever to cruel and serious words like guns, ammunition, murderers, and life imprisonment.
After a night's sleep, my excited state of mind cooled down, and I began to ponder the consequences of my impulsive actions.
I will never regret my choice; it's not like me. My only worry right now is whether this girl can meet my expectations. Will her hidden secret not be as unbelievable as I hope?
If I were to ask her about her origins after she wakes up, and she were willing to answer truthfully, but ultimately she delivers a completely unappealing answer, then I would truly feel sorry for the enormous risk I took for her.
At that point, in order to protect myself, I might have no choice but to secretly get rid of this girl.
To secretly dispose of it... I can't believe I had such a killer-like thought.
Perhaps even handling it secretly won't help. Assuming this girl is indeed a dangerous individual wanted by the authorities, my rudimentary counter-surveillance skills are no match for my ability to escape the pursuit. The traces left behind last night might be enough for the authorities to pinpoint my location.
However, I also secretly hoped that such an accident would happen. It would be rather boring to be let off so easily; it would be great if the authorities could find some clues about me and come knocking on my door.
Feeling anxious and uncertain, I took two more steps forward and got closer to observe the girl's sleeping posture.
An accident occurred.
The girl suddenly opened her eyes, and her arm, which had been hidden under the blanket, shot out with lightning speed and grabbed my collar.
At the same time, her body suddenly rolled off the bed like a hunting beast, combining her wrist strength with her weight, disrupting my already unstable posture and balance.
I struggled reflexively, but to no avail. Instead, she probably used judo or some other technique to borrow my strength. For a moment, I didn't even know how to describe what happened. I just felt my vision turn upside down and a strong impact slammed into my body.
When I came to my senses, I realized that she had pinned me to the floor, and my hands and feet were locked in place.
Although this was an unexpected sneak attack, I never imagined that a girl her age could subdue me to this extent. Was she pretending to be asleep the whole time? So she really isn't an ordinary person? I couldn't help but feel a surge of surprise.
After completing this impressive wrestling routine, she neither spoke nor made any further moves, but simply pressed her entire body against my back, breathing heavily in my ear.
"You're awake?" I asked first, anticipating her reaction.
After a long while, she finally managed to speak.
"Who...are you?" Her voice was sweet and childlike, but her tone carried a blatant threat. "Where is this place? Why am I here? Answer me now if you don't want to suffer."
“My name is Zhuang Cheng, and this is my home.” This question was not unexpected, and I answered honestly and briefly, “Last night I found you lying in an abandoned construction site nearby, covered in blood, so I brought you back.”
“…I don’t understand.” She maintained a high level of alertness while asking with some confusion, “What do you mean by ‘so you brought me back’…what’s the connection between these two sentences?”
"Didn't you tell me 'don't call the police'?" I replied patiently. "We can't just leave you outside like that, can we? What if a homeless person with bad intentions picks you up?"
"Really? But..."
She first took a deep breath, then propped herself up on my back, freeing one hand to seemingly grope her entire body. Was she checking to see if I had violated her while she was unconscious?
No, she was more likely looking for the gun she was carrying.
She was still very weak when suddenly she lost her balance and nearly fell over.
I seized this golden opportunity without hesitation, quickly pulled my left hand out of her grasp, and then swiftly drew the pistol hidden on my lower back. Without turning my head, I pressed the muzzle against her torso.
Is this what you're looking for?
Upon hearing this, her body stiffened instantly.
We've won back a point!
I'm extremely satisfied with my 120% performance; could this scene even be included in an action movie?
As expected, she was in a completely different state from my energetic self. Even though she was practically on my back, she didn't notice the pistol I had hidden in my lower back. From her initial tactics and demeanor, I sensed a seasoned and sharp edge, like a seasoned warrior. But a normal warrior wouldn't make the mistake she just made, right? In other words, this wasn't her normal state... Could I interpret it that way?
Perhaps she was only unharmed on the outside, but was actually injured elsewhere... was it an internal injury?
“It’s only fair to return the favor. Now it’s your turn to answer my questions.” To avoid letting her sense my heightened emotions, I tried to speak in a calm tone. “Who are you, and where did you come from?”
"You think that's enough to win?"
Clearly, my unexpected counterattack did not deter her; on the contrary, it fueled her fighting spirit.
That alone doesn't constitute a victory for me. It happened so suddenly; I didn't even have time to unlock the safety on my pistol. Besides, even if I had unlocked it, it wouldn't have been convenient to fire in the neighborhood. More importantly, I genuinely couldn't bear to kill her.
However, she probably doesn't know that the safety on the pistol is now locked.
Isn't she afraid of live ammunition?
"You don't want to make a scene here, do you?" I wasn't going to back down in a verbal exchange. "Get off me first."
"I refuse." She was like a petrified cat, reacting with a sharp, confrontational attitude without hesitation. "Now..."
Knock knock knock.
Just then, an uninvited guest knocked on the door in the entryway.
We both shut our mouths at the same time.
"Is anyone home?" came an unfamiliar voice from outside.
Who is this? A deliveryman? Do I have any packages coming in recently?
"I'll go and get them to leave first," I said to the girl, twisting my neck.
"No way," she immediately refused. "What if..."
"Or I could yell and scream, or even open fire right now."
Upon hearing this bluffing threat, she fell silent, seemingly weighing the pros and cons, or perhaps trying to determine if my threat was genuine.
She quickly released me and stepped back, standing on the bed like a wary wild animal looking down at me.
I immediately stood up from the floor, grabbed a T-shirt from the closet, and closed the door behind me as I left the bedroom. My clothes were stained with blood from the close contact with the girl earlier. As I moved toward the entrance, I quickly changed my shirt, calling out, "Coming, coming!" while wrapping the pistol in the dirty clothes and hiding it behind the sofa.
When I got to the entrance, I opened the door and saw who was standing outside.
When I saw it, my heart almost stopped beating.
Standing outside the door was a policeman with a mature-looking face and solemn eyes.
"Is there something you need?" I consciously controlled my facial muscles.
"Excuse me, I'm a police officer. I'm currently looking for a serial killer who is on the run." He first showed me his badge, then took out a photo. "If you've seen this face in the vicinity, please provide any relevant information."
I took the photo and looked down at it. It was a headshot. Just one glance was enough to give me a heart attack.
The "serial killer on the run" in the photo is none other than the girl I hid in my bedroom.
(End of this chapter)
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