Chapter 131 A heartwarming scene? (asking for monthly ticket)
At 8 o'clock in the morning on April 16, Feng Mu's biological clock woke him up from his dream on time as usual.
Although two-thirds of his body had been transformed into corpse, miraculously, his biological clock was still running precisely.
Feng Mu is often confused by this absurd phenomenon: is it the corpse deceiving the biological clock, or is it the biological clock deceiving the corpse?
In the quiet morning, Feng Mu's thoughts began to drift.
Sometimes he would fall into strange thoughts: if the soul really disappears after human death, but the corpse continues to move like the "zombies" in movies and TV dramas, then will these corpses still retain their habits and habits before death?
He wondered if a good swimmer would instinctively soak in water every day after death; or if a hard-working office worker would wake up at eight o'clock every morning and habitually go to the company to punch in even after death;
And whether a technician who is addicted to work will stay in bed every day even after death, twitching like crazy, will become the hottest-selling health product - inflatable doll.
These questions swirled in Feng Mu's mind, feeling both strange and philosophical.
After pondering for a moment without any results, Feng Mu got up from the bed and reached out to open the drawer of the bedside table.
A normal person's bedside table might be filled with a variety of items such as small umbrellas, massage sticks, and small fleas.
However, Feng Mu's bedside table is different from others. Glass syringes and needles are always neatly placed inside. He is a person who is free from vulgar tastes.
He rolled up his sleeves and inserted the needle into the blood vessels in his arm, causing his muscles to instinctively tense and contract.
Feng Mu drew out 200cc of blood with great difficulty and immediately felt refreshed. Although in the martial arts gym, he also served as Yuan Xidi's "iron man" every day and lost some blood.
However, without the blood-drawing process with a needle, Feng Mu always felt uncomfortable, as if the ritual sense of piety was missing.
Just like watching “learning materials” on a phone in the privacy of a classroom, the difference between using headphones and listening to them loudly can be dramatic.
The former is always a bit sneaky and secretive, and the passion seems to be discounted in silence; while the latter, every time a ripple of sound spreads, it will stir up resonance in the air, making every pore of your body climax and tremble exponentially, so that your soul will tremble with pleasure.
The metaphor may not be appropriate, but if you think about the deep meaning it contains carefully, you will find that there is something in common.
Feng Mu gently pulled out the needle, his eyes stayed on the needle tube which was slightly bent due to the tense muscles for a moment, and then he threw it into the trash can without hesitation.
"Syringes can be cleaned and reused, but needles can only be replaced and refilled."
Feng Mu sighed. He now controlled Ma Bin's wallet and would not worry about small amounts of money. He just simply felt it was troublesome.
Fortunately, these are just some trivial things in life.
Feng Mu squatted quietly in the toilet and finished washing up carefully, with an indescribable calmness and tranquility surging in his heart.
The former "enemy" is no longer there, those secretly prying eyes have disappeared, and future revenge has been cleverly transferred to others... everything is perfect.
Feng Mu's mood at this moment was like that of a serial killer who had just killed someone and entered a short cooling-off period called sage time.
Go out.
He still rode the old bicycle that had accompanied him through wind and rain, and rode slowly along the familiar road to the incinerator in the distance.
Due to a week of absence from work, Feng Mu’s salary for this month has been deducted.
Ask for leave?
That doesn't exist. There is no "Labor Rights Protection Law" in this world. The fact that the incinerator did not directly fire him was already beyond Feng Mu's expectations.
Fortunately, Feng Mu came to the incinerator not for the salary.
"I didn't expect that the incinerator is quite humane. No, it's quite corpse-like~" Feng Mu complained in his heart with an open mind.
Wang Jian was still squatting on the steps as usual, holding a cigarette in his hand and puffing out smoke.
Feng Mu looked at him and inexplicably felt that the latter's honest and rustic temperament of an old farmer was very similar to that of Zhang Hao, whom he had met once.
Of course, for Zhang Hao, the old farmer's color is just a superficial disguise, but for Wang Jian, this is his true appearance.
I think so.
When he saw Feng Mu, the expression on his face brightened instantly, and his joy and excitement were beyond words.
Squatting next to Wang Jian was another thin young man with an unfamiliar face. He had a mask hanging on his ears and also had a cigarette in his mouth, which he was taking puffs of.
When Wang Jian stood up and walked towards him, the latter just stood up, glanced at him blankly, then took two deep puffs of his cigarette, threw the cigarette butt casually on the ground, stepped on it with his toes, and then turned around and walked back to the incinerator.
Feng Mu didn't care. He looked at Wang Jian and forced a faint smile.
Without waiting for him to say anything, Wang Jian poured out all the words he had been holding back for a week onto the ground like beans from a bamboo tube, and the splashing sound fell into Feng Mu's ears.
"Feng Mu, why didn't you come to work this week?"
"I sent you a message, but you were slow to reply. Did something happen at home?"
"Oh, that guy just now is a new incinerator hired by the factory. His name is Zhong Lei. He doesn't like to talk much."
"But don't worry. I've asked around secretly, and the factory has no intention of firing you. The number of corpses burned has doubled recently, and there's too much work to handle."
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“…”
Meeting Wang Jian's sincere and concerned eyes, Feng Mu patted the latter on the shoulder and responded with a few words, half-truthfully and easily getting by.
"Well, something happened at home and someone was hospitalized, so it was delayed for a few days, but don't worry, it's all been taken care of."
"The workload has increased again? Fortunately, I hired someone else. Otherwise, if you were exhausted, it would be my fault. I'm sorry."
"Oh, your name is Zhong Lei, right? You don't like to talk, but it's okay. It's not a big problem. We'll get along well with each other over time."
Feng Mu always had a faint smile on his face, a smile that seemed to have gone through a storm but was still as warm as ever. His voice was gentle and calm, which made Wang Jian feel inexplicably convinced and at ease.
Feng Mu did not tell Wang Jian that he might plan to resign later. He said there was no need to rush and it would not be too late to resign after the "job transfer" procedures were finalized.
In fact, he doesn't have to come. After all, it's not necessary for a white-collar worker to resign. He doesn't need to go through any procedures and doesn't need to be paid. He can come or not if he wants.
But Feng Mu still planned to stand guard for the last few days, not for any other reason, but because he was a sentimental person and someone who would finish what he started.
Looking at the body bags on the small iron cart next to them, he and Wang Jian lifted one end at each end and moved them to the incinerator. He smelled the strange smell so close and looked at the ugly, hideous but harmless faces of the corpses.
Deep in Feng Mu's heart, a long-lost sense of intimacy quietly emerged, as if he had found in this fishy air the deep comfort that could soothe people's hearts.
The corners of his mouth slightly raised, and he said to Wang Jian in a relaxed and humorous tone: "Since the number of corpses to be burned has doubled, I wonder if these evil corpses have rewarded you with more black cores to comfort you for your tireless service in sending them off to their graves?"
Wang Jian scratched his head, then carefully took out a heavy bag from the cabinet next to him and handed it to Feng Mu: "It's all here. Our harvest from the incineration room this week is all here. We are really lucky. There are 21 black cores in total. Count them..."
Feng Mu took the bag and a smile of trust appeared on his face.
How could he bother to count them all? He was a man who always trusted his friends with the greatest goodwill.
Feng Mu took out his wallet from his pocket, counted out a stack of money and handed it to Wang Jian: "Here's the money from Heihe, and the money I owe you before. Here, can you count it?"
It was even more impossible for Wang Jian to count the money. He now trusted Feng Mu very much, as if he trusted Feng Mu as a spiritual mentor.
Deep within the crematorium, those once twisted and hideous corpses slowly melted under the scorching heat, and the air was filled with the aroma of burnt meat.
However, under the scorching flames, the most sincere and trustworthy friendship in the world was being performed in front of the stove without any violation, making the already hot air even warmer...
I'm asking for monthly tickets at the beginning of the month~ I'm discharged from the hospital, hahaha,
(End of this chapter)
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