Chapter 8 Good Kids and Bad Kids, Fanatics and Wild Dogs
Yoshimi Matsuo is a literature lover.
She had just turned 19 and was studying literature in Tokyo. She was from Yokohama, and her entire youth and childhood were filled with lingering blood and unsolvable dilemmas.
She read literature because she had been confused and depressed for a long time. Sometimes disasters came so naturally that she was caught off guard. During that confused period when she didn't know who to blame, she wanted to write, but she had to stop writing many times due to various accidents.
What a strong and optimistic child.
She was told so.
She and her roommate ordered the latest issue of the magazine and placed it on the table in the apartment three days ago. However, due to the academic requirements of her tutor, she had to spend a lot of time writing course assignments that had complicated rules but were aesthetically pleasing, and were completely based on formulas with no ideas to be seen, but would definitely get good grades.
The instructor's assignments did not recommend that they express themselves freely, but she needed a scholarship and the pressure of life did not allow her to act on her own. Over time, the teachers' evaluation of her changed to: she is very well-behaved but has no talent for writing. In short, after two or three years, Matsuo Yoshimi has made no achievements. She has written a lot of articles, and even she is almost accustomed to the emptiness.
She dragged her tired body to flip through the magazines on the table, but the "Contemporary" magazine that she had always wanted to read was nowhere to be found. When she was confused, she received a call from her roommate.
"Jiamei! Come to the Internet cafe quickly, the article "Mutism" is very popular now!"
Huh?
Computers of this era were not cheap, and the economic downturn and frequent wars to some extent hindered their widespread popularization in home use. Most of them were only used in offices. There are many Internet cafes in society where people can stay overnight. Many people who have been fired or have had their salaries cut, as well as those who cannot afford to rent a house, choose to live in the private rooms of Internet cafes. Although the shops near the university are slightly safer, such an environment is still full of good and bad people.
"Wait wait wait, Yazi, what time is it? You didn't stay away all night, did you?"
"I'm sorry, Jiamei-chan. I finished reading the final chapter yesterday and really wanted to post something, but I kept reading until now. Anyway, Jiamei-chan hasn't finished reading that novel yet! I have "Contemporary" here! Come to the Internet cafe and find me!"
Matsuo Yoshimi reluctantly packed her backpack and rushed to the small cubicle in the Internet cafe. As soon as Nomoto Ayako came up, she stuffed the magazine into his arms. Ayako was reading a forum post. Matsuo Yoshimi took the book reluctantly and was about to lean over to look at the computer screen when she was stopped by Ayako again.
"You must be very tired! Let's see the ending first."
Matsuo had no choice but to sit on the tatami by the wall, flipping through the book "Contemporary". The ending was not very long, but it took her a long time. She turned to the end and then to the beginning. She remembered the previous part of the serialized story. She was a little dazed, as if covered by a piece of paper.
She stood up and looked at the forum page. Yazi was reading a long comment. It was very long, with the decadence and nihilism of a middle-aged man.
[False Hero:
I was one of those who were left behind in the massive layoffs caused by the financial crisis a few years ago. I still have more than ten years before retirement, and there are still more than 100,000 yuan left in my card. Not long ago, my wife divorced me and remarried, and my daughter was taken away by her.
I can no longer afford the rent for my apartment for next year, and I can’t find a suitable job. Forget it, I thought, I still have a house in the countryside, so I might as well go back to the countryside.
I saw this article when I was sorting out the books that my daughter did not take away. I am a firm lover of literature, but I was inexplicably touched by this article. It happened that the last issue was on sale, so I used the few hundred yen in my pocket to buy the latest edition and read it on the side of the road. After I finished reading it, I looked up and found that I was in tears.
It's wrong. Everything is wrong.
When I was young, I had just graduated from college and thought I had everything under control. But after entering the company, the well-defined seniority system and the ruthless oppression from upper-level managers made me realize that I couldn't wait to become the type of person I disliked the most.
I remember I once had a junior who was very well-behaved, like an ignorant and innocent lamb. He poured me a glass of wine and I talked to him while half drunk and half awake.
"You are not suitable for this job. Your heart is too pure."
At that time, I was determined to take him to see the world. I took him to visit many colleagues and seniors. Some of them were very bad. I remember one night, he was drunk, put his arm on my shoulder, and cried to me:
"Senior, is this all I can do?"
I felt a little compassion and said:
"Just try harder and stay a little longer, and it will be fine."
Now that I think about it, I treated him the same way my predecessors treated me. We tacitly follow certain rules and regard them as a necessity. They even oppress young people who have not yet been tainted with color, and have no shame in doing so.
Wrong, I should have told him something else.
I could comfort him, take him away from workplace socializing, and introduce him to ways to relieve his stress, but I didn't. I just kept telling him that only in this way could he survive in the company, only in this way could he make a name for himself and escape from hell.
I meant well, but it was all wrong.
Later he was transferred and suffered from serious mental illness after being bullied in the workplace. When we met again, there was still a remnant of his former innocence when he smiled at me, but by then, his life had already begun to count down.
Say something? At least, say something to the people around you and to the younger generations?
My wife cried so hard when she left me. Is there love between us? Did it exist? Even after so long, the love has disappeared, and we have become each other's half. My daughter has a congenital disease and she needed money, so she left me and I don't blame her. Before my daughter passed away, she hid all her jade in my closet. Her illness required a lot of medication, and she felt guilty towards me, but I didn't blame her.
The boss laid off a large number of people. When he was leaving, he was drunk and almost passed out. He said he didn’t want to do it. He said one employee was going to retire in a year, three employees were getting married, and two employees’ families needed money…
What can he do? He also has a family, he has a pair of children. The economy is in a downturn and he himself is in danger. Now that things have come to this, I don’t blame him.
So who should be blamed? I accepted everything in silence because I knew it was inevitable. But when I saw this, I suddenly realized that I was wrong.
I was wrong in accepting everything, wrong in always looking ahead and behind, wrong in twisting my overflowing care into shackles to shackle others, and wrong in not saying a word from beginning to end. I was just turning a blind eye, I was just turning a deaf ear.
Say something? Say something? If you don't say something, the rules will always be the rules. The overwhelming war, oppression, and rules have left me with no way out. If I abandon even the language that belongs only to me, then is my existence real or just an empty nightmare?
Language may be meaningless, but it is not useless.
My life may be worthless, but it is definitely not useless!
When I typed this line, I had a sudden sense of pleasure and my heart was beating very fast. The moving truck will arrive at the door in thirty minutes.
I seemed to see a pair of eyes as innocent as a lamb, see another possibility, see another life.
Don't be like me.
Don't compromise, don't be silent.
Grab the person you want to grab, hold on tightly, and never miss him/her.
——Thoughts on "Quiet Syndrome"
］
There are many posts like this. Everyone is just sharing their own lives. Everyone’s pain is different, and every life carries a wonderful sadness. I am sad that I have been transformed by reality, and I am sad that I am trapped in a cage but cannot say a word.
Normally, everyone digests their own pain on their own, but today I realized that there are so many people in pain, and so many similar people. So many oppressed people never communicate with each other. It was not until they knew each other that the reality that they had to accept broke through the mask of peace and nothingness.
Yazi watched her flipping through the posts in silence. After she finished reading, Yazi spoke softly:
"Jiamei, I'm sorry, I accidentally read your article before."
"...Ah...that kind of rubbish?"
"No... no, Jiamei wrote very well. I've read the article in which Jiamei was scolded and cried by her tutor. I don't think it's Jiamei's fault at all! But I know Jiamei really needs the scholarship, so..."
There was a hint of guilt in Ayako's eyes.
"Jiamei is actually very good at writing!"
Matsuo Kami opened her eyes wide.
"I'm sorry for being silent before... Did you convey my words?"
Ahh, has she been looking forward to this all along?
With a layer of mist covering her pupils, Matsuo Yoshimi hugged Ako tightly.
"...Thank you...I got it! Thank you!!"
She took a deep breath, stood up suddenly, crawled to the computer, and opened the posting page.
"Well, let me say something, too!"
Anything is fine, just say something.
It's not meaningless. There is nothing meaningless in this world!
——
The forum is not dominated by one-sided reflection posts, there are also a considerable number of questioning posts.
There are many directions for questioning. Some people think that no matter how you package it, it is not easy to go in the opposite direction of the world.
Some people also think that "I" am just a mentally ill patient and the whole article is an absurd world fictionalized by a mental patient.
Mr. Wu Shi, who has not yet become the president, hung up the third call from the editor this week in confusion. Although he repeatedly emphasized that he was just sending on behalf of the editor, the editor didn't care about this at all when he was excited. In short, it caused quite a bit of trouble.
But unexpectedly, he got contact from Natsume Suiseki one day.
The teacher was a politician who came to him for his own purpose, but when he opened his mouth, he was asking for information about the author of "Mutism".
"I'm sorry, but my client told me not to disclose it. But I think he really has no bad intentions at the moment."
Sengenmaku chose a very good third party, and Mr. Bushi did an excellent job of keeping the secret. However, because of his integrity, although Natsume Soseki frowned slightly, he finally relaxed his brows.
A few months later, the Armed Detective Agency was officially established in Wanxiang Hall ahead of schedule.
And all this——
Qian Jianmu, who was wandering around the slums again, seemed to know nothing!
Before the arrival of last winter, Chijianmu had already figured out the general situation of each slum. He can recruit a group of cheap laborers with a small amount of compensation, which is very useful. Qian Jianmu even picked out a few psychics who had not yet grown up and focused on training them.
Among them, two people stand out more. One is a child named Akutagawa Ryunosuke who is as alert as a little animal and his supernatural power is called Rashomon of the attack department. The other is a boy named Endo Shusaku, and his supernatural power is called Fukagawa of the intelligence department.
Chijianmu remembered the day he met Endo Shusaku, the slender boy huddled in the shadows. He was three or four years older than Chijianmu, but due to long-term malnutrition, he looked even thinner and weaker, like a trembling shadow. He used his special powers, and as long as he didn't make any noise, he wouldn't be discovered. So when he suddenly spoke, Qian Jianmu was really shocked.
The young man said:
“Are you a god?”
Qian Jianmu looked at him, he thought for a moment, and shook his head hesitantly.
"Shouldn't it be?"
Then the young man said:
"Can you do magic?"
Qianjianmu said:
"Maybe? What magic trick do you want to see?"
He didn't say anything, but just raised the corners of his mouth in embarrassment. He looked injured and too weak to speak.
He said:
"I'm so hungry, can you give me something to eat?"
So Qian Jianmu sat next to him and handed him food and water.
The young man finished eating in a mess. He sat cross-legged on the ground, wiped his mouth, propped up his face and smiled:
"That's enough, God."
“I’m not a god.”
Qian Jianmu tilted his head and spoke softly.
"If you really don't want to, then I'll call you Onion." The young man said softly. He turned his head and coughed a few times. His pale lips turned a little red due to the friction. He then asked:
"You pay special attention to Akutagawa Ryunosuke. He has superpowers, and so do I. Are my superpowers valuable to you?"
Qian Jianmu did not answer.
So the boy narrowed his eyes and smiled with satisfaction.
"Then use me."
Qian Jianmu's eyes flickered for a moment, and he asked back:
"So what do you want to gain?"
"I want to live, just want to live." The young man said softly: "Don't you want to ask what my superpower is?"
"What is it?"
"I can walk into the gap between life and death. When I'm in the gap, no one can see me, but I can see fragments of other people's life stories." The boy's smile became more and more neurotic, with a kind of silent weirdness.
His body is so thin and fragile, but his soul is so crazy and tough.
"You are my salvation, you can save me. Then you are God."
“God can use all weaknesses and sins, and God can change all destinies and causes and effects.”
He whispered:
"You let me live, so please use me."
So he established contact with Endo Shusaku, observed him for a week, left some money, and then left.
Compared to the obedient yet somewhat evil (…) Endo Shusaku, Akutagawa Ryunosuke is much more unruly. Qian Jianmu had only stepped slightly into his land when he was cautiously driven out. However, after a little effort, Qianjianmu finally got permission to join.
Ryunosuke Akutagawa has a younger sister, Gin Akutagawa, who is weak due to malnutrition. The brother and sister actually lived in a pretty good family in their early years, but later their parents died and they had to live in the slums. Ryunosuke Akutagawa received enlightenment education, but Gin Akutagawa did not.
So Chigenmaku once again took out his old specialty of enlightenment education. To be honest, he might not have achieved anything in other areas, but in this world, he taught people the gospel to become more and more proficient in it. An interview at a primary school in the future might go unexpectedly smoothly.
Although Akutagawa Ryunosuke's supernatural ability is quite strong, it is ultimately a growth-oriented one. He is much worse off than guys like Nakahara Chuuya who were born at the peak. The brother and sister were displaced and lived a hard life. When Qian Jianmu left, he didn't even dare to take out money and resources, because that kind of thing in the hands of a child who had no ability to protect himself was equivalent to a death warrant.
In the end, he ordered a year's supply of milk for the brother and sister on the condition that Ryunosuke Akutagawa would do something for him in the future, and only these two people could go and pick it up. You can sell it or drink it after you get it. Although Akutagawa Ryunosuke was very cautious, he silently agreed because his sister had not had proper nutrition since she left home.
Winter is coming, and although it is winter, Qianjianmu plans to visit the slums again. He returned to the shrine just in time for his birthday in November, the coldest month, to spend the winter. He acted very quickly and didn't care what would happen to the article after it was published. He completely forgot about the editor who had a lot of things to say but couldn't, and the warrior who wanted to report something but couldn't find anyone.
So when Mr. Wu Shi received the next contact and manuscript, it was already the spring of the following year.
You have been completely forgotten, Mr. Tool Man.
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