I was woken up by the industrial innovation of the times, and when I opened my eyes, I realized that it was a hair dryer.

She secretly woke up while I was asleep, took a shower, and now wears a black dress and stands in front of a floor-to-ceiling mirror to blow her hair.

Droplets of water rolled down locks of hair, seeping into the black fabric, and finally disappeared. With a loud rumbling sound, I watched, as if I were looking into hell.

Is she going out?

She went out. But the timeline is night. She sat in front of the TV again until the sun had completely set, then she opened a small pink plate, smeared the shiny patches of color on the plate with her index finger, and applied it to her eyelids in a chaotic manner.

Is it only black? Her sloppy eyes were reflected even deeper. I think it's better to look natural without it.

I thought she was going to buy ice cream and wondered how many buckets I had left, but she took a turn at the fork in the road and interrupted my meditation.

That's not the way to the convenience store.

She walked for a long time, through the bright alleys, boiling, bypassing the hot skewer shops, the fast food restaurant next door was lined with very desolate, passing through the bus stop, stepping on the fallen leaves, I deliberately squeaked on it. The sewage under the fallen leaves was so good that I didn't pay attention to it, splashing her trouser legs, and she never looked back.

How far is it going? I'm ready to give up, maybe I'll be able to wait for her to come back. I don't believe she'll ever go back. Can......

All roads lead to Rome, and if she doesn't come back from this road, or take a taxi, will it be the last time she sees her?

But I don't know why she knows me, why she calls my name in her sleep. I don't know who she really is.

I still want to know what she's going to do, and that might help me in my exploration.

The tavern was smoky and psychedelic with colourful lights, and I dragged my heavy legs and sat in the corner with her.

The layout of the tavern is delicate and niche, there is a small stage with wooden steps in front of it, a microphone standing in the middle, and a mottled high-legged chair, which is vicissitudes and unique.

I think I probably know that every 12 o'clock at midnight, a down-and-out person walks up to this lonely stage, sits on this chair, and speaks into the microphone a story that belongs to every guest that night.

This is where I go to work.

The down-and-out man who appears on stage every midnight is me. It's not just me, I'm not alone, in fact, there are many colleagues who are with me, in the middle of the night, do their best to bring them relevant emotions.

That's why I didn't go to work for so many days in a row, and no one was looking for me. I never mattered. It's just a painless job, and the earth won't turn without anyone.

She sat quietly in the corner, not noisy or noisy, as if it didn't exist, and no one came up to her to offer her a cocktail that suited her mood for the evening. Is it these days that I am away that they are starting to be so lazy?

It's possible that it always was, but I didn't care. Their business has nothing to do with me.

However, everything at this moment is only an illusion of a brief calm before the storm. The glacial canyon sleeps all year round, and it can't stand any pleasure. Even a faint laugh is enough to mobilize the power of every insignificant snowflake, condense into death, overwhelming the world, and the avalanche is born.

And I'm going through this avalanche right now.

I saw the horn that triggered the avalanche and rushed out of the tavern that inspires tears and hormones.

I'm dead. I heard them say that there is no story for this period of time, because Wang Xiaohan is dead.

I think I know why she can't see me anymore.

I am now a lonely ghost, how can people see ghosts? She doesn't have yin and yang eyes.

So... I recall the indescribable irony of how she had the audacity to search in the dark last night, while I was timidly hiding behind the couch.

She's haunted by a ghost...

So... What is it about everything she does? In remembrance? Remembering me?

Joke!

I have no other way to deal with this kind of joke now but to destroy it to get a moment of peace of mind. I slammed my fists against the walls on the deserted road outside the tavern, and there were blood stains on the dirty old walls. But it didn't work, no one heard my screams, and even the broken knuckles didn't hurt.

I calmed down and began to heal on its own like a child who had been injured in a playground fall without being noticed by his parents. Thinking about the rejection of supernatural stories, for me now, I have reached a blind spot in knowledge.

Why didn't I go to any underworld to drink Meng Po soup? Why don't you know you're dead? And why, don't remember who she is?

Maybe I should look it up, at least know where I'm going and what I'm going to do, and I don't have to wander around aimlessly like I am now.

I accepted reality very quickly, and one second I was worried about running into other wandering ghosts, but this second, I already regarded them as my companions.

Humans, or ghosts, should be looking for their own kind, shouldn't they?

There was no bus, so I had to rely on "Route Eleven", my two worthless legs, to get to the library, which is a scene that is frequently seen in horror movies.

It's really terrible, it turns out that ghosts can get tired too. But the gains outweigh the losses. I gained new knowledge and found out why the library is a scene where ghosts are high, and it seems that those directors who make horror movies are really not pretentious, and they do have two real skills. But where did they find out? Food for thought.

The library at night is weird, the light bulb hasn't been changed for a long time, and it's more passive than the waiter in the tavern.

I still walked out and went to the convenience store at the door to buy a 12-yuan flashlight. Equipment is an important factor in whether or not to win a tough battle. Immediately afterwards, my stomach remembered at the right time, reminding me that physical strength is also the foundation.

I turned around to a fast-food restaurant with a plastic façade on the side of the road, and there were only four white-faced and blue-edged tables in it.

"A bowl of lo mein." I don't care much about eating, just fill my stomach.

The boss has a broad face and a greasy middle as a tabletop, and the goldfish-eyed bags fall on the cheekbones, and there is no flattering smile that a businessman should have.

"What! What a terrible service attitude! I muttered to myself at the back of my boss.

A few minutes later, he smashed a large bowl in front of me with a cheap cigarette in one hand, and I felt that what attracted me more than the scarce lo mein in the bowl was his condescending big nostrils. I sit, he stood, and I had an unobstructed view.

The vegetables in the lo mein are not fresh, the sauce is very salty, and the meat is too little, so the noodles are not strong. It's not as cost-effective as two pieces of five-piece instant noodles. But I have a habit of instant noodles for soup. It's a pity that the hard-earned money has been wasted.