Chapter 52 The Red Double-Decker Bus 3 □□
Because of this incredible prop, the entire carriage was eerily quiet. The middle-aged woman looked at the two girls with a surprised and envious expression, then turned back to meet your gaze.
Having successfully protected herself by imitating you before, she seems to have already considered you one of her "accomplices." You subtly put on the same envious expression, then shake your head helplessly.
"Tch." The middle-aged man made a barely audible, leaky sound.
It seems there's another person here with props, perhaps in... a purse? You glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The man is still sitting in his seat, but his body is leaning slightly forward towards the two girls who seem to be good friends—they are sitting in the middle of the bus towards the back.
That's a bit suspicious.
If you have the tools and more information, you will lend a helping hand to others out of kindness, but you won't take sides casually.
You will only become more wary of those who have the same resources as you.
This middle-aged man was no good; the unpleasant encounter that lasted only a few minutes, which could hardly be called a confrontation, revealed his arrogance and his complete lack of kindness towards others.
Such people should not easily show favoritism to their competitors.
Yes, competitors.
From their previous snippets of conversation, you gleaned the keyword "rating." You don't know what kind of rating to give; after all, you've only boarded the bus with a ticket, so it shouldn't concern you. It's a shared rule among these individuals. Since someone is going to rate them, they are naturally in a competitive relationship.
Unless, in addition to competition, there's also a cooperative relationship. A middle-aged man looking for a partner would almost certainly choose the two sisters who seem intimidating. However…
Your eyes darted around and met the gaze of the pink-haired girl.
This girl had been pretending to put on makeup ever since she got on the bus, but the reflection in the mirror was actually shining all over her face.
What does she want from you? If all your assumptions are true, does she want to "team up" with you? But you don't seem any more capable than them.
This is all so confusing. I have a bit of a headache. I'll just have to wait and see for now.
At least for now, you know:
1. Once you've chosen a seat, don't move it.
2. Minimize your presence and avoid conflicts with these passengers.
It's not difficult to do these two things, since you're squeezed into a very enclosed corner at the back, and other passengers are avoiding you like the plague.
You're feeling a bit bored. You feel that although you've always had pretty good luck, this time the start has been too comfortable, unlike before when there was always some kind of danger.
Pshaw, this kind of comfortable life is fine too. Hardship doesn't temper the spirit, it only increases danger. Sigh, you've been manipulated by this environment.
Thinking this, the carriage slowly came to a stop amidst the muffled sound of the engine.
Red and blue lights flashed alternately, and through the window, you could vaguely make out the outline of a police car through the fog.
?
A group of people in police uniforms quickly approached, holding powerful flashlights that shone brightly against the bus windows. As they drew nearer, a vague sense of smugness could be seen on their expressions.
What's there to be happy about? If you were on duty in the middle of the night, you certainly wouldn't be this happy.
A male police officer stood at the hood of the car and gestured to the driver, who immediately opened the door. Instantly, a gust of cold wind mixed with thick fog rushed into the car.
The lead officer strode into the vehicle, a prominent number pinned to her shoulder and a gleaming badge hanging on her chest. Her gaze swept over everyone in the carriage, as if she were seeing through each face. Several officers followed her in, each dispersing to different positions within the carriage.
"Passengers, this is a routine check. Please cooperate." The lead police officer's voice was loud and clear, and he was extremely excited.
The passengers looked at each other and began to whisper among themselves, while the police began to take action, asking everyone to show their identification and carry-on luggage.
They split into two groups. One group started checking from front to back, and the other group started checking from back to front. The middle-aged man was the first person in the back row to be checked.
He calmly took out his identification and handed it to the police officer. His spoken English was indeed quite good, and he had a strong mentality. At this moment, he was still joking with the police officers: "Routine check, is it? Thank you for your hard work."
The young policeman glanced down at his ID, nodded, but instead of returning it to him, he casually handed it to another officer: "Let me verify it."
You saw the middle-aged man's smile freeze for a moment, but he didn't say anything more and silently slumped back into his seat.
The two sisters in front of me were also asked to show their identification.
The pink-haired woman gave the police officer a cold glance, reluctantly pulling out her identification from her bag. The woman in the backpack quickly rummaged through her bag, casually handing over her identification. As the police officer took the identification, he gave them a second look, as if confirming something.
Why aren't we using props anymore? Are you thinking it's because these people are police officers and can't be "recruited," while the previous ones were all ordinary civilians?
"Are they going to check us too? I've never heard of that." The pink-haired man was still arrogant even without using any props.
"Please cooperate." The policeman replied without looking up, not paying much attention to her attitude, and then waved his hand, signaling them to sit still.
When it was the middle-aged woman's turn, the police ignored her homelessness disguise and just yelled at her rudely to do what she was supposed to do.
The woman hurriedly pulled out her ID, but accidentally dropped it on the ground as she handed it over, causing the policeman to frown: "Be quicker next time."
She bowed and apologized profusely, but the policeman impatiently threw her documents back after glancing at them.
After looking around like this, you probably have a general idea of what's going on, but you still can't help feeling guilty.
Who would have thought that taking a bus in the middle of the night would result in a police check? Keep in mind that you just thought you were going out for a walk and didn't even put your ID in your pocket.
Your turn.
When the police officer walked up to you, your heart was in your throat. To avoid any surprises—as the saying goes, "You won't tell unless she asks, but you'll be surprised when she does"—you could only put on a calm facade for the time being.
"Identity," the policeman said expressionlessly.
"Let me look for it." You reluctantly searched the place, but how could you possibly find it? "I might have left it at home." You quickly tried to think of what to do.
Logically speaking, losing an ID shouldn't be a big deal, but you're a little unsure whether there's any risk involved if the police take you off the bus halfway through the journey.
As you looked down and touched yourself, making puzzled noises from time to time, you secretly glanced up and noticed that several police officers had turned their attention to you.
Your situation is a bit unusual, and the lead officer walked right over. She stared into your eyes for a moment, then glanced at you before tilting her hand to your side and reaching out: "What's in your bag? Take it out and let me see."
You couldn't refuse, so you had to open your bag and take out everything you could to show her.
Or perhaps we should say something nice.
What do you say "police" in England again? Oh no, I can't just say "police" directly.
You try to sound like you'd in a TV drama: "Ma'm, I really haven't done anything wrong." Seeing the police officer's expression harden, your heart races, and your mind races—what should you do if they ask for further investigation?
"What's hidden in your clothes?" another policeman suddenly asked, his sharp eyes fixed on your coat, which was now almost completely shredded.
You were taken aback, and followed her gesture to look at it: "It's just ordinary clothes, nothing special."
However, the policeman had already reached out and swiftly scooped up the crumpled coat. You instinctively wanted to stop him, but were stopped by the policeman next to you: "Cooperate, don't move."
They picked up the baseball bat and weighed it in their hands. Before you could explain, they gave their own reasonable explanation: "It's not a big deal to carry a baseball bat for self-defense."
He shook the tattered coat open again, and just a few seconds later, the policeman's hand paused inside the coat.
She touched a strange stitch and frowned: "What's this?"
Huh? Your mind goes blank, and now you're truly in the "she asks you in surprise" situation: "Nothing at all."
The police officer used his fingers to pry open the seams and pulled out an ID card and a wallet, which he then showed to the other officers.
You're even more foolish.
You can be sure that there wasn't an extra seam inside the coat. Besides, you're not so careless as to leave the house without checking all the pockets before putting it on.
With your head tilted back, your eyes followed the policeman's hand, trying to see clearly. It was unmistakable; this wallet was indeed the spare coin purse you kept on the shelf by the door, and the ID card was perfect—the photo and address were identical.
"Here's your ID." The policeman who pulled out your ID sounded a little annoyed as he handed it to the leader.
She glanced at the documents, then looked back at you: "Be careful next time, don't lose your documents again."
You nodded, took the documents and wallet, and put them into your backpack.
Now, the doubts in my heart piled up like an avalanche.
The search continued in a chaotic manner for some time, with everyone's luggage and documents being thoroughly searched. Finally, the lead officer closed his notebook, smiled, and said, "Thank you for your cooperation. Since there are no problems, we'll be leaving now."
After getting off the bus with the whole group, she chatted with the driver for a while, looking very happy, before leading everyone away.
You press your ear against the window, but you can't hear anything. Give up.
Looking at the residence card that had inexplicably appeared in your hand, you fall into deep thought. You remember finding some tips in the little green book that weren't exactly social rules: such as always carrying your passport or residence card with you in case you're randomly checked, etc.
But in the bus scene, the automatically appearing residence card is clearly hinting at something. And it is indeed your card; there's even an old Queen's Head coin in your coin purse that you received as change when you went grocery shopping at the Masa supermarket.
Or is there something wrong with your identity? Who's the undercover agent on the bus version, and you're the blank slate?
Alternatively, we can only look at what these police officers just did. When they came, they repeatedly emphasized that it was a routine matter, and in the end, they didn't find anything illegal or arrest any criminals.
On such a foggy day, when you occasionally check a bus full of passengers, the police officers are quite friendly. Based on your social experience, you really can't find any "point of conflict" in their behavior.
If we can't start with social rules, we can only think outside the box.
You try to recall what the police did after getting on the bus, such as carefully searching everyone's bags and seeming to know the driver very well, and combine that with the previous conflict between you and the passengers...
"What were you looking at?!" A male voice interrupted your thoughts.
The man who shouted angrily was sitting to the right of the middle-aged man.
He initially moved forward because of your attire, but later, seeing that the middle-aged man was quite talkative, he sat back down and aggressively asked the man a lot of seemingly curious but actually offensive questions. The middle-aged man, whose occupation was unclear, rattled off a bunch of smooth-talking nonsense, and you didn't fall for his trap at all.
The local man sat next to the middle-aged man for the rest of the time. After being intimidated by the props of the two pink-haired women, he obediently shrank into the corner on his side without saying a word.
Who would have thought he would suddenly shout like that?
"Don't be so loud," the middle-aged man explained. "As a foreigner, I'm bound to be curious and scared when I see the police, so I might take a second look. It's really nothing to talk about. I'm sorry, everyone, that some of my little things have been brought up and affected you all."
Despite the middle-aged man's impressive skills in using flattery and sleuthing, the fleeting panic on his face was quite genuine.
"Stop pretending, you're all in cahoots!" the local man persisted. "Get out, get out!"
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Author's Note: Merry Christmas Eve!! I planned to finish this chapter tonight, about 8,000 words in total, but my procrastination got the better of me, and I dragged it out until the afternoon, until I was going out for a big meal... So I thought I'd write on the way, but it turns out you can't write anything on the way... qaq Anyway, I'll update 3 chapters on Wednesday: one to finish the bus ride, and two new chapters of the story.
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