Chapter 51 The Red Double-Decker Bus 2: Positive Energy
Are they all outsiders? The fact that they all have Chinese faces doesn't necessarily mean anything. However, you're in a similar situation, and you don't want to dwell on this issue for now. After all, you can definitely get some clues from them, so it's worth spending time with them.
For example, right now, from their eyes, it seems that everyone can accurately recognize which of you are like them, even if you boarded the bus before them.
The atmosphere was strange, as if a voice in their minds was reminding them, "Hey, look closely, they are your competitors."
You concealed the baseball bat, which you had been hiding under your trench coat, under your seat to minimize the chance of revealing that you had a weapon.
The bus moved steadily, and since boarding, the street scenes on both sides had been completely obscured by the fog. At this moment, the world consisted only of the small space inside the bus.
The passengers, who had been sitting quietly in the carriage, suddenly became lively after the train departed. The middle-aged man sitting next to you, who had always looked confident, relaxed after seeing that you weren't making any aggressive moves, and cleared his throat as if he were speaking at a business meeting.
His seat was in the very middle of the last row, and his light cough drew everyone's attention to him.
At that moment, he turned his head and his gaze fell on the passenger closest to him.
It was an elderly woman wearing a gray raincoat, with a pale face, slightly downturned lips, and her hands stiffly placed on her knees. Her face was turned towards the window, as if she could see something.
However, in the reflection, her eyes were turned backward, peering at the middle-aged man.
If the middle-aged man didn't strike up a conversation with her, she would probably take the initiative to talk to him.
The middle-aged man gave a friendly smile and said in a deliberately accented London accent, "The weather is terrible; even an umbrella can't keep out this fog. London fog is always so annoying, isn't it?"
The old man in the gray raincoat did not respond; his stiff neck did not even twitch, only his eyes were still watching him out of the corner of his eye.
The middle-aged man, however, remained unaffected and continued speaking to himself: "However, this fog does have a unique charm, reminding one of those old movies, like... 'Oliver Twist,' have you seen it?"
Just as you were wondering whether his mention of the movie had a special meaning or was just to start a conversation, the old man's shoulder twitched slightly. Although the movement was small, it was enough to make you notice the change.
You see a knowing glint in the middle-aged man's eyes, and his tone becomes more relaxed: "Speaking of old movies, those classic films are truly rare gems. They explore human nature, and watching movies allows you to experience a country's culture and customs. Nowadays, movies are all flashy special effects, lacking that kind of depth that leaves a lasting impression."
The old woman slowly turned her head, her grayish-white pupils glancing at you before looking at the middle-aged man. Her lips twitched slightly, as if she was about to say something, but the middle-aged man didn't give her a chance, changing the subject abruptly: "But speaking of which, the passengers on this bus are quite diverse. Someone as elderly as you must have many interesting stories, right?"
The old man's lips twitched slightly, as if some deep-seated memory had been touched. But he ultimately remained silent. Her gaze returned to its vacant state, and she stiffly slumped back into her seat.
He initiated the conversation but then wouldn't let the other person speak? This is...
The pink-haired girl among the two girls who boarded the bus glanced at him and whispered to the other girl with the backpack, "Show-off."
The backpacker chimed in sarcastically, "As if he's the only one who's good at talking nonsense. This path is definitely wrong, just wait and see, it'll definitely backfire later."
What road?
The middle-aged man blushed for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. However, you noticed his fist clenching subtly.
On the other side, the schoolboy in uniform, clutching his backpack, wiped the sweat from his brow. His gaze darted back and forth between the middle-aged man and the elderly man in the gray raincoat, muttering under his breath, "Abandon, abandon... what's the next word..."
The middle-aged man continued his search for his next target, smiling as he struck up a conversation with another woman wearing a vintage trench coat: "Madam, your trench coat is so retro and stylish. Let me guess, is it a classic style from the 1950s?"
The woman seemed somewhat disdainful, offering no response and not even lifting her head. But the middle-aged man showed none of the arrogant attitude he had displayed when he shoved her aside; instead, he remained polite and gentle, continuing, "London's fashion style is always captivating. Especially classic styles like these, both understated and sophisticated."
His words seemed to echo softly in the air, like a one-man show. But to be honest, these passengers, who were initially restless, behaved unusually calmly in his presence, even gradually falling silent and returning to the quiet state they had before the train started moving.
Is that so? The man's proactive communication dispelled the eerie atmosphere in the carriage, maintaining a delicate balance with the passengers.
"The original passenger was clearly an adversary of us, but as long as he didn't show hostility or fear, he wouldn't attack us? And if he took the initiative to speak, he could directly switch to a good state?" you concluded to yourself.
You lower your eyes, recalling the casual remark made by the girl with the backpack. Perhaps it's not just that, but their words cannot be taken as definitive evidence.
At the same time, your gaze falls on the middle-aged man's briefcase.
He kept tapping his bag with his hand while he was talking. Was it just an unconscious habit? He noticed your gaze and almost instinctively protected his briefcase.
You smile at him, pretending not to notice the hint of ruthlessness that flashed in his eyes.
You and the man were locked in a stalemate, while the school uniform boy, who was memorizing vocabulary, finally couldn't take it anymore and cried out in despair, "Why is it so hard to memorize? Why did I have to come to this kind of dungeon?! If I could understand Japanese, why would I choose to go to a Japanese language school?!"
The schoolboy's outburst was completely out of place, startling everyone. He jumped up and yelled at the middle-aged man, "So you think you're so great, huh! In the end, they'll still give you a negative score! We'll all be dead!"
His voice was sharp and panicked, and all the passengers turned their heads at once, their gazes falling on the school uniform boy like sharp blades.
The last middle-aged woman to board the bus frowned and said somewhat anxiously, "Young man, calm down—"
But it was too late. The boy's out-of-control behavior had clearly triggered some kind of rule, and the passengers stood up and approached him.
This is bad.
Especially the passengers near the boys, they looked to be around teens, wearing ordinary school uniforms, with identical facial expressions, hairstyles, and outfits, as if they were made from a template.
The boy in the school uniform clearly realized he was in trouble. After a brief moment of speechlessness, he shouted, "Don't...don't come near me! I didn't mean to!" His voice was sharp and trembling, and his fingers gripped his schoolbag tightly, as if it were his last shield.
The "teenager" closest to the boy finally spoke up. He pinched his nose and said sarcastically, "You're too noisy. You're not suited to stay here."
Another person immediately chimed in, "Yes, we need quiet."
When the third person spoke, a strange smile even appeared on his lips: "Or... you can become our friend."
The boy in the school uniform turned pale with fright and said in a trembling voice, "N-no need... Don't come any closer!"
But the teenagers paid him no heed. The boy cowered in his seat, waving his backpack and trying to scare away the laughing teenagers: "Don't come any closer! Stay away from me!"
His shouts echoed through the carriage, but no one responded. Apart from the middle-aged woman who frowned with worry and looked distressed, everyone else was just watching the spectacle.
The schoolbag of one of the boys in school uniform slammed heavily onto him, but the boy didn't react at all. He just laughed with his companion. Another boy reached out, grabbed a corner of the bag, and pulled hard, easily snatching the bag away.
The schoolbag fell to the ground, and when it was opened, its contents were revealed—a stack of ordinary textbooks and notebooks.
"Hahaha, you nerd." They laughed. The boy in the school uniform just waved his hands haphazardly, saying "Go away," but he didn't actually put up any real resistance.
The boys in school uniforms look like teenagers, so why are you chickening out? Fight them!
This scenario, which connects to certain real-life situations, is infuriating to watch. But you notice that even the seemingly soft-hearted middle-aged woman didn't leave her seat. It seems that once a seat is chosen, it cannot be easily left. This is how the boy broke the rules.
You thought for a moment and then made some noise.
Unlike the loud shouting of the boys in school uniforms, you just suddenly coughed loudly as if you were having an attack—middle-aged men can cough lightly, so surely it's okay for you to cough once, right?
You had planned to attract the boy's attention and then gesture for him to fight back, but unexpectedly, those teenagers who looked like thugs received your signal first and immediately chickened out, shrinking their shoulders and trying to retreat.
Hmm, is it because their current identity makes them see you as a "homeless person who might go crazy at any moment"? You seem to have grasped the key point. It turns out that they are not ignoring you out of disdain for homeless people or imposing a chain of judgment, but because they are bullies who prey on the weak.
Regardless, you've saved that boy now.
He was completely unaware that you had saved him. Instead, he started yelling again, "Kill me! Kill me! I don't want to live anymore anyway. What's the point of living in a world without anime or cute girls?"
You were speechless, and even the teenagers who were already preparing to leave seemed speechless. They glanced at each other, then stole a look at you, returned to their seats, and hesitantly recited their lines: "Go back to your country."
Words became law; you saw the boy's body convulse before finally collapsing like a rag doll. Red liquid seeped from the seat, and his body was gradually corroded away, leaving only a slightly dark shadow.
Everyone quietly shifted their positions, no longer leaning completely back in their chairs.
The teenagers stood there, silently staring at his backpack, as if checking items to be disposed of after a task was completed. Then, after stealing another glance at you, they turned around in unison and fled back to their seats as if escaping.
These teenagers were intimidated by you, but the death of the schoolboy seemed to have awakened their natural restlessness.
Compared to the middle-aged man who was chatting openly with the passengers and the two girls sitting together, the middle-aged woman was clearly their next target.
When she got on the bus, she didn't compete for a seat near the door, and even when observing her surroundings, she seemed careful not to offend anyone.
But now, several passengers around her turned around to face her.
“Madam,” one of the “passengers” spoke, his voice sounding as if it came from a broken old gramophone, “where are you headed?”
Another passenger chimed in, "Your eyes are so big, they look different from other Asians—are you Japanese?"
Their words contained no threat, yet every syllable was laced with malice, piercing the middle-aged woman's nerves. Her face instantly turned deathly pale, her lips trembled as she tried to reply, but she couldn't utter a single word.
But if she didn't take action, the consequences for the boy in the school uniform would be the same for her. She looked around frantically, her gaze sweeping across the carriage, finally settling on you. She was looking for you.
Your seat is in the corner of the last row, and your clothes are tattered from your previous escape and the dust you deliberately wiped off. Your posture has become even more slouchy since what just happened; all that's missing is a bottle of alcohol, and you'll be considered a confirmed mental patient.
You saw her eyes light up, and you smiled at her. This woman was quick-witted; she processed all the information rapidly, took a deep breath, and, despite the pressure from the two still aggressive passengers, bent down to open her bag and began rummaging through it rapidly.
From her bag, she took out a small pair of scissors, a lipstick, and some small bottles of cosmetics. She hurriedly began to tidy up her clothes.
First, she cut several slits in the cuffs of her wool coat, and then cut a section at the hem, making the whole garment look incomplete.
Her movements were hurried and clumsy due to nervousness, and she even cut her finger because her hands were shaking, but she didn't care. She wiped the blood on her body and face, making it even more real.
She continued to apply lipstick haphazardly to her coat, then crumpled up several pieces of fabric and rubbed them together. Finally, she ruffled her hair and took off her gold earrings.
Her imitation was finally complete. When she stuffed her bag back under the seat and looked up again, she was completely transformed. The once neat and elegant middle-aged woman now looked incredibly haggard.
The two passengers paused for a moment as she finished, but they were not easily deterred like the teenagers.
After a moment of slight panic, the middle-aged woman met your eyes again. You made the same fist-waving gesture you had made to the boy in the school uniform earlier. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
This woman seemed to have a gentle personality, and was initially unaccustomed to confronting the passengers' attacks with a strong stance. However, after gently waving her fist, she quickly adapted, clapping her hands more forcefully to create a "fake" commotion and, unable to utter any coquettish words, uttered some flowery curses like "bastard" and "get lost."
It was very effective; the two looked at each other in bewilderment and left helplessly.
The middle-aged woman breathed a sigh of relief, the fear in her eyes gradually replaced by a hint of smugness. She turned to look at you, nodded in thanks, and a tired but contented smile appeared on her lips.
You smiled back, then looked at the two girls.
Although I don't know why everything here is turn-based, now only the two of them are left without being bothered.
However, the two sisters remained completely unfazed. Apart from chatting and laughing for a while while watching the commotion, their faces showed no extra emotional fluctuations.
The pink-haired girl leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingers lightly on the armrest, as if she was about to fall asleep from boredom; the girl with the backpack was looking down at her phone, occasionally yawning.
Not only are the passengers curious, but you also want to know the source of their composure.
A passenger who looked only slightly better dressed than you stopped next to the two sisters and drunkenly yelled, "Do you two think you're special?"
The pink-haired girl raised her eyelids slightly, glanced at him indifferently, and said nothing. The girl with the backpack completely ignored him, continuing to fiddle with her phone as if she hadn't heard him at all.
"I'm talking to you!" the drunkard raised his voice. He seized the opportunity to grab the backpack by the shoulder and yanked it hard, trying to make her stand up.
The backpack finally looked up, slapped his hand away, and her face remained expressionless, though her tone carried a hint of impatience: "Don't touch me."
The pink-haired man slowly sat up straight: "Take it out, there's no need to waste time."
The backpack nodded, and with a very natural movement, opened its bag and took out something—a small, exquisite red stamp.
Is this a prop?
Who exactly are they? Did they also obtain these items by defeating monsters in the fog? How come you only got a few train tickets? Or is it really as you guessed before, that you can obtain universal items throughout the entire dungeon by triggering certain events?
Once you're alert, focus intently on what's going to happen.
The backpack held up the stamp and pressed it directly onto his body.
Instantly, the entire car was illuminated by a bright red light, and you vaguely saw 24 large golden characters floating before your eyes. What is this?!
The drunkard was completely unaware of the danger and even scoffed, "What kind of junk is this?"
His smile froze instantly, his body stiffening as if bound by some invisible force.
"Ah, ah, so touching, I felt it. This kind of value system of truth, goodness, and beauty is the only one that should be upheld as the guiding principle?"
He burst into tears, crying, "I'm guilty! I actually tried to bully you! Maybe this is the savage nature flowing in my blood. I deserve to die. I... I don't deserve to live. In my next life, I want to join the Chinese nation!!"
As he spoke, he merged with his tears, which sublimated into a star in the dazzling, warm light.
With a "click," the seal's lid closed, the light disappeared, and the entire carriage returned to darkness. All the passengers, as if under a spell, stared blankly at the ceiling, trembling with fear, afraid to make a single move.
"What is this?" you asked, dumbfounded.
Sigh, asking won't get you a reply, it's pointless to even ask. You're a little annoyed.
"Hmph, is this the ceiling of your understanding?" The pink-haired girl didn't care and turned her head away arrogantly. "Aren't you afraid to let me know about the entry stamp from the Flower Country customs?"
That's amazing! You're so impressed that you can't help but applaud.
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Author's Note: Good evening! Tiger is awake. Tiger is sleepy again.
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