My name is Mocking Thrush.

This wasn't my name, and I wasn't called that in the first place.

I don't remember who my last name was.

It's not so much that I don't have a good memory. It's a special skill for me.

I was able to forget all the things I didn't want to remember.

I'm not entirely uninterested in my past self. But I knew that the forgotten history, including my real name, must be something that I don't want to remember.

After that, there was only one person I didn't want to forget.

The encounter was on a rainstorm day.

It's not an encounter of flowers and perfumes. There is no warm sunshine and no moving music.

The few clear memories I have of are cold, hunger, and endless darkness.

It was the last rain of the summer of that year, and there were no cicadas, only rolling thunder.

All I had on me was a single coat that was as thin as a cicada's wings.

The rain and fog were thick, and the moisture in the air made it difficult for me to breathe.

My stomach hurts, probably because I haven't had food for too long. In the past, there was a burning sensation of digestive juices eroding the mucous membranes, but now only pure pain remains. It twisted into a towel-like ball like an awkward twist, and even then, it couldn't squeeze out a drop of gastric juice. It seems to have lost this functionality.

It's cold.

I thought, I'm going to die.

There is nothing in this dirty alley.

The pouring rain washed away the garbage heap, and the fishy smell of the soil, the musty smell of dampness, and the sour smell of decay mixed into a special pungent smell. Dusty rain flowed down the eaves and pipes, enveloping the liquefied sewage and cascading down the sloping terrain into the sewers.

But it's much cleaner than the environment I used to live in.

Although, after that long time I learned that it wasn't the case.

But who would have thought that the future would be so far away?

It's not like the life that people should have, although I don't seem to know what a normal person should live. A being like me is closer to a weak bird, a tiny bug—yes, not even a stray dog.

I can't wander. Wandering is the exclusive right of freedom.

I'm not free.

Even though I've been chasing freedom. Now, I seem to have broken what binds me, but I'm still not free.

I understand. I'm a worker ant.

I am the most humbled being of the whole lowly race, the most toiling instrument, the expendable without human rights. My companions and I have spent our lives working for the entire population...... At least the upper part of this group is dedicated, or squeezed, life.

Even if we don't have any awareness of this, we don't know who the queen is. We are not in a position to meet them.

And my ant-like life is coming to an end.

I was leaning against the wall, not even having the strength to cower. The frozen body can't even curl up.

Looking up to the sky and opening my mouth, I let the rain wet my parched throat, and with the last of my strength, let out a hoarse and bitter wail.

It doesn't have the momentum of a wolf or a dog, but at least it's much louder than a bird, a cicada, or an ant.

The sound was soon drowned out in the rain again.

A bolt of lightning tore through the night sky, but the clouds did not disperse.

The blinding light went out twice, and a bright light suddenly hit my tired eyes, which was very painful. Then, a shadow stood in front of me.

I may have hallucinated.

The little match girl has a grandmother to pick her up, will I have any relatives to take me away?

"Oops...... This, a bit of a hassle. Really, I'm busy. ”

The man complained, but tilted his umbrella this way. The impact of raindrops was no longer felt on the face.

Actually, my skin was numb from the cold. I mean, I don't notice the tactile sensations on my body anymore.

I struggled to keep my eyes open in the sudden electric light, to make sure I didn't know the person in front of me.

He crouched down, his tone plaintive, and a wry smile on his face.

I don't want to die yet.

Thinking like this, I subconsciously reached out and tried in vain to grab something. Maybe it looks more like a cry for help, because I can't make any sound.

"This ...... I really can't help it. Don't let me happen to this. ”

He said something to himself, rolled up the cuffs of his robe, and grabbed my outstretched hand.

"You can go by yourself, my clothes are new. ”

Like grasping at a life-saving straw, I grabbed that hand with all my might.

"Hey, I'm still very energetic. ”

After that, I was taken to his shop. It's a nice tavern, not huge, but it's well equipped, and there's even a nice indoor pool.

That night it happened to be closed for rectification. He found a large blanket and rubbed a towel over my wet hair like a freshly bathed puppy.

"What's your name?"

He didn't ask me who I was or where I came from.

I didn't answer him, just wrapped the blanket tightly. It was warm inside, but my shabby clothes were icy and sticky to my body.

He didn't ask, just helped me get hot water and bread from the back kitchen.

This man is strange. In a Western-style bar, he wears a loose slanted kaftan in the style of the Republican period. And his hair is very long, and he looks like a tall woman from the back. But as long as you turn around, you will find that his face is clearly contoured, and it is indeed a hard line that belongs to a man.

When he walked over, he took off his blond, round-rimmed glasses and wiped the water stains from them.

"I suggest you change out of your old clothes, you'll catch a cold. There aren't many women's clothes here, so I'll put them at the bar on the east side. ”

After wiping his glasses, he went upstairs to the dance floor on the south side. I sat for a long time and walked to where he said.

There is also a strange place in this bar, with a large Chinese medicine cabinet behind it, and there is a bitter smell coming from it. Even more out of place was the fact that there were a number of sophisticated instruments on the table, and I wasn't sure if it was pharmaceutical or distilled spirits. There is also a book spread out, and scattered pen, ink, paper, and inkstone.

This women's dress doesn't quite fit me. It's originally tight, and it's one size smaller. But talk is better than nothing.

After a week, when I was almost recuperating, he sent someone to take me to the hospital for a full set of physical examinations, and led me to buy a lot of fashionable clothes. He also said that he could just open his mouth if he wanted anything.

I just want to live a normal life, and that's it.

I was able to survive here and do some odd jobs.

Some of the employees in the store are disabled. They have scars on their exposed skin, or are missing a finger or two. But they were all very nice and took care of me from time to time. When my husband is busy, I also like to chat with them.

So, I knew that this man was the owner of the bar.

His real name is Qiu Miao, some people call him Boss Qiu, and more people seem to call him Mr.

Boss Qiu is indeed a little elegant. The long black hair and gold-wire round-framed mirrors add some antique charm.

He often holds a paper folding fan, and when he deftly lifts it up, the fan can be closed, and it can make a crisp sound. I've tried a few times, but I can't do it so neatly and it doesn't sound good. At this time, the gentleman was watching the joke next to him.

I didn't want to try again, so I spread out the fan and took a closer look. The front and back are all white paper, and nothing is written on the fan bone.

I knew he was a good handwriter and asked him why he didn't write something. He just smiled, didn't speak, flipped the black sunglasses off the frame, and continued to read the miscellaneous books.

I asked why I was given this name, and he said he was reading an encyclopedia about birds. When I came back from going out to meet people, I happened to pick up the gray me.

Very casual person.

"I've always wanted to have a mocking thrush. He said so.

I was placed in a nearby rental house, and the rest of the clerks would go home. Only Boss Qiu lived alone in the store.

It was just a street away from the back door of the bar, and I could see it in the faint moonlight when I sat by the window at night. In the middle of the night, there are occasional people coming in and out.

They are basically frequent customers of Boss Qiu. When I introduced me to them, Boss Qiu would always rub my hair, like touching the head of a pet dog.

He never told me anything, just as I didn't tell him. Naturally, we never asked each other.

Later, I learned that this man was dangerous.

At first, I only judged from the somewhat respectful attitude of the person who came, that Boss Qiu must be a well-known person on this street. Until one day when I got off work at dawn, I found that the key to the rental house had been left behind at the bar. I went back to fetch it and found that the door was locked from the inside. I felt strange, so I had to go around and enter through the staff passage in the back kitchen.

I smell a strong smell of rust.

Only the east corner of the hall was dimly lit. I ran there in a panic, and a few familiar people stood in front of the bar and saw me, the black muzzles of their guns pointed at me.

"Don't do that, that's my staff. ”

They confirmed that I was familiar and withdrew the gun. I leaned over and saw something on the ground, flesh and blood blurred, still moving.

The ground was littered with playing cards soaked in blood.

Boss Qiu's robe was on the table. He leaned back on the table, wearing a crisp white shirt with a sharp collar. You can see through the long black hair, which is splashed with mottled red.

Like red-crowned cranes.

I don't seem surprised.

He lifted the sunglasses from the frame, and there was a gentle smile in his eyes.

Finally, I brought the bucket and wiped the marble floor clean little by little. After a dozen trips of water back and forth, four rags were dyed and unusable. I burned them.

His real name is Qiu Miao, and some people call him Boss Qiu. Because of his elegant posture and calm and meticulous means, the people on the road respected him and called him Mr.

Now that I think about it, I may have inferred something from the many conversations and people's behaviors that I had in the past.

Life is still going on peacefully.

I met more people and learned more things. I often go out with him.

Mr.'s power is relatively independent, and most of them have taken over some business. There was no one above him in this neighborhood. In the case of contracts or disputes between several families, he will also be asked to be a notary. After that, I slowly heard from his friends that he used to run errands for other people, and then a lot of things happened and he came out to do it alone.

It shouldn't be easy to deal with past relationships, and I admire him a little more. Mr. also has a lot of friends. They told me that he once had a partner who died on a mission. So far, he's just acting alone.

The clothes I wore at that time were also left by her?

- To be continued -