Zhang Ya...

Silently saying her name, Chen Ge felt vaguely uneasy because he didn't get any response.

He turned his head and looked behind him. It was a pitch-black night, with no light around, so he couldn't see his own shadow at all.

"What are you doing?" The man noticed that Chen Ge's behavior was a little strange, and whispered, "You don't look well."

"This is the first time I've heard of the profession of suicide intervention operator. What do you need to do every day?" Chen Ge was also a man who had seen a lot of ups and downs. He immediately adjusted his state and changed the subject.

"Nearly one million people commit suicide every year in the world, a number far exceeding homicides, but this topic is often seldom brought into the public eye due to shame and silence. In fact, what we should do is to face it squarely. When a person shows suicidal tendencies, we should help him and cure him in time, rather than blaming him and isolating him with a look of misunderstanding."

“No one is stupid enough to take life lightly. When a person is really pushed to that point, only he himself can understand the pain he is enduring.”

The man seemed to have thought of something. He looked at the endless night sky and said, "I am a suicide intervention operator. My job every day is to extend my hand to those who are on the edge of the abyss and tell them that there are people in this world who are willing to help them. I cannot drag them out of the abyss, but I can tell them that there are still beautiful things in the world."

"Is that the number for the suicide hotline?" Chen Ge nodded. "No wonder the first few people spoke to me in such a strange tone."

"It's not that they are strange. If you encounter what they have experienced, you will probably be the same as them." The man turned around and looked at Chen Ge. "In fact, those who believe that they will die rarely call our helpline. Those who choose to call the suicide intervention hotline at the end of their lives actually still have a trace of love for this world deep in their hearts. Their incompatibility and all kinds of strange behaviors are actually asking for help from the people around them."

"Help?"

"That's right. Suicide is not a temporary action that is prompted in a short time. Various reasons are planted very early. Those bad emotions and things accumulate in the heart, and then suddenly one day, because of a certain point, they are triggered, and at that moment people are overwhelmed by negative emotions. Many suicides actually have early signs, but people around them rarely notice them. If they can discover them earlier and make changes, the tragedy can be completely avoided."

The blood color on the man's coat was slowly fading, and the blood-colored tattoo on his left cheek was also fading.

This was the first time that Chen Ge encountered such a situation. All the red clothes he had seen before, no matter when, the blood-red coat would not change. The red clothes in front of him seemed to be a little different from the other red clothes.

The man didn't care about Chen Ge's look. He probably just wanted to talk to someone. "I've heard a lot of reasons for suicide. The factory went bankrupt, and in order to make a comeback, they owed huge loan sharks. They were desperate and didn't dare to go home at the last moment of their lives. When I answered the phone, I heard that man in his forties or fifties was crying. His only wish was to see his children. There are too many similar things. Every time it's late at night, people will always become more vulnerable. Twelve to three in the morning is our busiest time. My first failed rescue was also at that time."

The railroad tracks were across the middle, and the man and Chen Ge kept their distance tacitly.

“Do you remember the first phone call you made?”

“I have an impression.”

"The writer once called me before he died. I could hear the madness in his tone, but I underestimated his determination. I thought he just wanted to find someone to talk to, because his voice was really calm. During the conversation with him, I didn't feel anything unusual about him. He was just normally depressed." As the man said this, the blood-colored tattoo on half of his face changed slightly. Strands of blood intertwined, slowly outlining the face of another person.

"I remember it very clearly. That was the first time I failed in my intervention. Even now I can still recite the entire conversation between him and me." The man's voice was somewhat painful: "I saw him in the newspaper the next day. I regret it very much. He gave me his last hope, but I ignored it. I am also responsible for that tragedy."

"Since then, I have been more careful when talking to people, but the situation has not improved."

"One day a month later, I failed to intervene again. That day was that person's 30th birthday. He chose this day on purpose, wearing work clothes, and said goodbye at the place he once cherished the most." The man should be talking about a patient with Nobita Fat Tiger Syndrome. Chen Ge could hear a hint of pain in the other person's tone.

"Lives are disappearing right before my eyes. I clearly have a chance." The blood-colored tattoo on the side of the man's face changed again. Chen Ge found that the blood-colored tattoo on his face would change every time he mentioned a person. Based on his experience dealing with evil spirits, the obsessions of those who committed suicide seemed to have entered the man's body. In other words, it could be that the man alone took on the obsessions of all the suicidal people on the other end of the phone.

"The third intervention failed the next day. I was planning to go see the last suicide victim myself." The man's tone changed for the first time: "He is really a kind person. I once asked him if he had any wishes at the end of his life. He told me that he was worried that if he died in the landlord's house, the landlord's house would not be rented out, so he ran to another place. He had put the utility bills and the rent he owed on the suitcase, but he didn't have any friends, so he hoped that I could notify the landlord and give him the utility bills."

"I talked to him a lot that day until he fell asleep. I should have called the police, but I didn't even know where he was."

"Before I could get over the last suicide, I encountered another one."

"He had cancer and was suffering from pain. Unlike other suicides, this one called me during the day. He had thought it over carefully." The man said this and looked at Chen Ge again: "My job is to pull a person out of the quagmire of death, but on that day, I didn't do that. Maybe it was because of too much mental pressure, or maybe it was because of continuous stimulation. I didn't persuade him to embrace life, but respected his choice."

Every time the man mentioned a suicide, the blood-red tattoo on the side of his face changed.

“I didn’t do what I was supposed to do, but was I wrong?”

The man looked even more bewildered. “All our call records are saved, and my call was no exception. But I don’t know what happened later. Not long after he got into trouble, the last call between him and me was made public.”