When I was 19, I witnessed a murder, and the murderer found me and tried to kill me.
I said something when I was dying. It saved me from death.
Many years later, when the killer got caught, the reporters tracked me like a bloody shark, and I realized:
The words that saved my life were a prophecy.
The reaction of the serial killer Chen Ching was extremely calm when he confessed to the police about his “rememberment” of the crime. In other words, there’s a lot to remember.
It is not enough to describe what is being done by a deranged and desolate person.
According to him, as long as the time and place were `appropriate’ and he had the heart to kill, he would do it, with one exception.
On New Year’s Eve in 1998, he spared a girl who was only 19 years old. Today, 18 years have passed, and the girl is almost middle-aged.
Chen Ching came here to realize that one of the dozen “conscience discoveries” of a heart attack did not affect his death sentence, so he stopped saying, “that day was a New Year” and “suddenly didn’t want to kill” and stuffed the past.
After Chen Ching was executed, rumours about his only “conscience discovery” became a big issue. All guesses point to a local beauty schoolteacher, Hertz.
Journalists from all walks of life are on the news.
Clearly, a perverted murderer like Chen Ling cannot leave a man who is likely to expose his crimes to the public because “that day was a New Year’s Day” “suddenly doesn’t want to kill.”
There must be something else.
I am He Chi, an unnamed painter, working in a local beauty complex, teaching, painting and occasionally holding personal exhibitions.
I am isolated, sensitive and chronically troubled by mental problems, and particularly afraid of attention.
Until Chen Ling, a serial killer, made me famous.
He let me go for the real reason, only me and him know.
In 1998, that exciting New Year’s Eve. When his hand held my neck, I said one word with all my might.
He let me go. I survived.
“Please tell me what happened. I’m sorry.
Of all the journalists, I’m the one who’s been bothering me for the longest.
“It was a terrible experience, and I don’t want to remember. I’m sorry.
Luzawa has been haunting me for more than a month, and I have rejected him countless times. He’s the kind of newspaper reporter who doesn’t want to stop, as if he’s taken this interview as a life pursuit.
“Sensei He, if you tell me the answer, I can do anything! I’m sorry.
I can’t say that I’m not touched by his stubbornness, but I’m not unwilling, but afraid to mention the story of that day.
I fear that once the past is mentioned, events will not be controlled.
Until that day, the assistant called:
“I saw your show today…”
I listened to the assistant and laughed silently.
I see, I see.
Knock, knock.
By chance, Rusawa knocked on the door of the studio.
He entered the door and has not yet spoken, and I have shown a welcome attitude.
“I decided to interview you. I’m sorry.
Luzawa-kun was surprised.
I took a deep breath and told him.
“On New Year’s Eve, I fled the dead.
“When Chen Ling’s hand seized my neck, I said a word and a word of prophecy. Then he let me go. I’m sorry.
“I didn’t think it was a prophecy either, until 18 years later. I suddenly realized that the time had come for words. I’m hard to say.
“From the beginning, slow down. I was snorting, and I took the kettle and poured two cups of water, “Please drink water. I’m sorry.
He was careful. He drank when he saw me drink first.
The interview was officially launched. Luzawa-kun gave a brief account of Chen Ling.
“The serial killers, Chen Ling, who have committed more than 10 crimes for more than 10 years, are all women, the first of which dates back to the 1980s and is indiscriminate.
“It is natural that the police cannot reveal the details of his statement after Chen Ching has been arrested. It was only after the death penalty was carried out that there were rumours of his “conscience discovery” that came to you. I’m sorry.
“Yes. I’m sorry.
“It is clearly impossible, according to Chen Ling, for him to release you because `that day was a New Year’ `and suddenly he didn’t want to kill’. I’m sorry.
“Why?”
“We’ve investigated Chen Ling’s childhood, his father’s premature death, and childhood lives with his mother.
“When he and his mother were abducted by the outlaws, his mother’s mother could not afford to pay, and his mother was torn to pieces. At an early age, he was alone and travelled to work in the provinces. Pervert killers often have such tragic family backgrounds. I’m sorry.
I thought back, “This thing, Chen Ling told me about it. I’m sorry.
Lusawa asked, “Did he tell you? So he thinks you’re one of his own, or do you guys know each other? I’m sorry.
“No, not one of us. He killed without distinction, we met once. Again, I clarified, “I’m not his accomplice, I haven’t done anything bad.” I’m sorry.
And I cut to the point, “So what do you want to tell me about his childhood? I’m sorry.
“It means he has no home. No home, no New Year’s. The Chinese had a very close relationship with their families during the New Year, when they watched other people enjoy their family life, which could be even more angry and extreme. That’s why the reason “that day was New Year” seemed too “normal” for him, but it was not. I’m sorry.
I agree: “I understand. “There is no New Year without Home,” which I am touched by. I am an orphan, the kind that was abandoned at birth, and I have no home. I’m sorry.
Luzawa apologized, but the atmosphere was a little tight.
“I saw your show. I’m sorry.
“No need to be polite. I’m nervous, but I know I’m a couple of pounds. I’m a man with no talent. I’m the best, the best. I’m sorry.
“But I like it. I think of my mother through your work…” Lusawa says, “So I came to you not only because of Chen Ling, but also because of my personal heart. I’m sorry.
I said, “What’s the goddess?” I’m sorry.
“How do you know? I’m sorry.
“The goddess is my work, my best work.” Only extreme passion can make me draw a good picture, and only the goddess in this state. And the next few decades were mediocre.
“In the day, the goddess had made a scene, and a lot of people wanted to buy it, saying that the goddess had made them feel love. I’m sorry.
“Love? I’m sorry.
“Yes. The woman in the picture is facing the world outside the frame of the painting, and the sad, but loving eye turns, looking at you, reaching out to you, expressing his thirst for you.
“Many people say that the women in the picture are lewd and holy, that they inspire the desire for protection, and that they are the perfect lover. – But you seem to feel different. I’m sorry.
“No, not love, love. “The painting is not a love, it is a mother; it is not a warm look, but a tender look; it is not a hand that reaches up, but falls down; it is not a thirst, not a desire to be protected, but a dedication to protect. I’m sorry.
I felt my heart beating, and I jumped faster, and I kept asking…
“So you feel the opposite. It’s like someone’s looking at the woman in the painting, and you’re looking at her head, so there’s a difference between the woman’s looking up or down. Then why do you feel exactly the opposite? I’m sorry.
Luzawa whispered, “I cannot see the woman in the painting as a lover.” Because that face looks very much like my mother who’s been separated for years. There’s a great possibility you’re drawing my mother. I’m sorry.
“Your mother? I can’t believe it. Is it such a coincidence? I’m sorry.
“I’m not quite sure that I’m going to be able to do this.” I wonder where your model is and if I could buy it? I’m sorry.
We said, “Then tell your story first. I’m sorry.
“…”
“The deal is equal, you want to know Chen Ling from me, and I need to know your mother from you. I’m sorry.
“That’s why you decided to interview me? I’m sorry.
“Not all of them. I’m sorry.
“You know I went to your show today? I’m sorry.
“Just know. When I came to the studio tonight, my assistant called me and talked about you. You saw the show and said it was like your mother, trying to buy it. Say the goddess is the mother and you’re the first. I’m sorry.
“I really want to buy this painting.” I’m sorry.
I insist, “Then start with your story.”
The journalist Lu told his story –
“I was born in the early 1990s, and that was when I was five years old, but it was my heart for years. My parents were already workers and my family was not rich, but happy.
“Then in the 1990s, my family was not spared, and both parents were laid off.
“The family has lost all its sources of livelihood at once, living in very difficult circumstances, with the impression that it has moved several times and that it has become smaller and darker.
“The family’s poverty is too great to be revealed. The mother went out and sold the pancakes to earn money, and as a result the stall was ruined; the father tried to work in the country with him, and was deceived into paying for the road.
“Parents go to the market every day to pick up their rinds and pieces of meat, which they do not find late because of the large number of families of laid-off workers who robbed the rinds. It is normal for a family to drink rare rice soup around an empty table every day, and it is always possible to hear parents groan.
“I was too young to help my family with the burden, so I followed someone to fish in the river, so I got so hungry and low in blood sugar, my head went into the river and almost drowned.
“When I was rescued, I had drowning pneumonia, which worsened the family’s condition…”
Luzawa can’t go on, there’s tears flashing in his eyes.
At the end of the day, he is also in his early 20s and would not have developed such a paranoid character had it not been for a tragic childhood.
And I was much older than him, but I did not judge him much, but I said: I understand, and I went through that time of confusion. And then what? I’m sorry.
“And later, someone wanted to marry my mother. I’m sorry.
Lusawa said it so hard.
“For 500 bucks, my dad let my mom go with the guy who promised to be good to her forever.
“It was when I was five, and I was too young, and I forgot a lot of details, but Mom looked back at me on the train and never forgot.
“It is with such loving and sad eyes that she looks at me and reaches out to me with her hand — as you paint — that she lays it down and turns her head off in a black hole train.
I cried “Mommy!” and my dad was holding me back. The train left and never returned.
“I hated Mom when I was a kid, and I didn’t understand why she didn’t want me to grow up. And then a few years later, my dad worked too hard and died of disease.
“So you say you’re an orphan, and so am I. The difference may be that I had a mother and father. It’s painful to have something to think about. I’m sorry.
I said, “Losing and never getting is two kinds of pain. I really don’t understand what I never get, but I’m also looking forward to motherly love. And then what? I’m sorry.
Luzawa-kun goes on to say, “I’ve had the potential to be a journalist since I was 15. It’s good to write. I’ve written articles in our local newspapers and I’ve read a novel.
“I wrote so hard, day and night, I made more than 500 dollars by writing. After a lot of inquiries, I finally found the man who took my mother, and I want her back.
“The man took my $500, pulled me for meat, drank, wandered around, didn’t say. He spent the last dollar and he told me that after a year he took Mom, he turned his hands and sold it to him.
“You know, it’s the kind of guy in the skin business…”
Speaking of which, Rusawa sheds tears.
I snuffed, “I get it. So I drew that picture, and everyone saw a passionate love, and only you saw a mother. Don’t cry, drink some water.”
“I haven’t seen my mother since.” Isn’t that sad? I’m sorry.
And I said, “For more than a decade, I’ve been so mediocre, I’ve had a great piece of “The Goddess.” I’m sad too. I’m sorry.
Lusawa: “Everyone has a different definition of patheticity, and I really want the family to be successful, and I want my mother not to suffer that kind of suffering, and I want my father not to be sick, but time cannot be reversed, and there is no better way. – Forget it, I don’t want to remember. I’m sorry.
I said, “My family is not happy, but it’s not sad for me. I just feel like my career is a mess. It’s pathetic. I’m sorry.
He consoled me by saying, “Not every painter can become a famous artist, just paint something that makes him happy. I’m sorry.
I nod my head, “Yeah, I don’t want to be famous. I just want to draw another piece like The Goddess that will satisfy me as the end of my career. No, it’s the moment it’s painted, and the career is over. I’ve been trying to finish The Goddess, but it’s always hard to write. I’m sorry.
“You’re under 40, why is your career over? Are you sick?”
“None. In short, it sounds pathetic that a painter only has good work at the end of his career. But I can’t. It’s the best I can do. I’m sorry.
“I don’t understand. I’m sorry.
And I said to myself, “I want to draw a continuation of the goddess, but I want to draw a picture of what she sees, or of what she sees. Everyone says the goddess is looking at the lover — since they think she is the lover, the goddess is looking at the lover.
“But I can’t write. I feel something’s wrong. So I’ve been waiting for a person who really understands to show me what’s going on. Lucky I waited for you. I’ve been refusing to give you an interview. I’m sorry.
Luzawa said, “Why do you believe that I understand correctly? I’m sorry.
“At least I’m looking at the same angle as you. I whispered, “The model of this painting, I looked at her.
Lusawa is still confused.
“It’s literally, looking at it. She’s up there, I’m down there, not what anyone else thinks is a goddess. This goes back to the subject of the interview, the killer Chen Ling. I’m sorry.
“Does this painting have anything to do with Chen Ling? I’m sorry.
“Hmm. If you look at it carefully, you’ll find that the bottom left of the painting shows the time of creation, the same year I met Chen Ling, 1998. It actually happened that year. I’m sorry.
“I have a bad feeling. I’m sorry.
“How so?”
“Chen Ling’s confession stated that many of the people he killed were prostitutes, and that the women involved in this trade would not normally be cared for, nor asked about their whereabouts. Victims are often left dead and unable to testify.”
Speaking of which, Rusawa’s eyes are shining and his voices are shaking.
And I comforted him, “Although I wanted to enrich my painting with your mother’s story, in reality I didn’t meet your mother. As you know, in the 1990s, life was hard to live, chaos was everywhere, red-lighted areas were full of women who lost their feet. I’m sorry.
“Well, let’s go back to the subject of the interview. Go ahead. What happened to you after Chen Ling? I’m sorry.
I told you my story.
As I said before, I’m an orphan, the kind that was abandoned at birth. In addition to the subsequent wave of laid-off, there was a wave of abandoned babies.
It’s normal at macro level, baby girl. But falling on individuals is the beginning of tragedy.
It is a vicious circle for me to be in poor health from childhood, to be in poor health, to be mentally ill and to have further physical effects. I’m lucky to be alive.
I want to say that I’ve been in poor health since I was a kid and that I think differently. But I didn’t do anything bad.
My only thought was to paint. Painting can get me off the ground for a while, so I’m drawing when I don’t work. I don’t have any talent. I practice on the day after tomorrow. I’m fine, but I don’t have the spirit.
I contacted a garden teacher who said that if I could draw his work, he could let me go to the beauty hall without paying tuition.
He said that was actually a euphemism.
Then I met the lady in the store, and it was really good for me. She asked me to look at her shop, to pay my salary, and I could draw when I was at it.
One year later, the couple went back home and I was alone and asked if I wanted to go back with them, and I declined.
She lets me stay at her house for the rest of the year. Her house was a building, under better conditions, with a cellular phone, which was expensive at the time.
It happened that year.
In 1998, on New Year’s Eve, I was alone at the shopkeeper’s wife’s house watching Spring Night.
I couldn’t be infected by the atmosphere of the laughter, so I had a board to paint, but I had no idea, staring at blank paper, and I couldn’t write.
Towards midnight, spring night enters the countdown of the happy ocean, ten, nine, eight…
A new year is about to begin, and perhaps everything will go for the good. I saw it snowing out of the balcony, feeling a little bit better, so I covered it with cotton and reached out to catch the floating snowflakes.
Starting with this out-of-hand move, everything went off track.
Snow white, one, two.
Black, one drop, two drops…
I’m confused to see a sticky, dark-coloured liquid, smelling, sweet, dirty.
It’s blood.
And then I’m like a rusty, insensitive hair, with a stiff neck and a slow up.
The whole body leaned on the bars and I looked up at the house upstairs.
At this point, countdown to “One” and “Good New Year!” I’m sorry.
And the sound of chaos and luminous noise in all directions, and the firecrackers in the near, and a pyrotechnic fire into the middle, and it blooms, and the flash of light makes me more clear.
The one upstairs, half of a woman’s body stretches out the balcony rail.
She’s down, I’m up, that sad, just dead face is right against me.
She just hangs her head down there, looking at me, stretching one arm down, standing flat and stretching towards me.
Blood crawled through her arm, like a stream of dry winters, slowly and dignifiedly flowing down to the tip of her finger.
I’ve been mentally depressed for too long, and this moment has come to the top.
I can’t stand it anymore. I screamed.
The sound was flooded by the firecrackers, but there appeared to be some detection upstairs.
Almost the next second I screamed, that blood-dropped hand was fast on the balcony. Someone dragged the master of that hand up and back.
Of course, soon the man will look down.
Even rusty, insensitive hairlines that tighten can produce a great deal of power –
I stopped screaming and the rabbits usually rush into the house.
Turn off the lights, turn off the TV, walk like a cat on the roof, and be quiet.
After all this, I stomped on the couch, immersed in the dark, staring at the door.
This building has six floors, eight families each. I’m on the third floor, 302; upstairs, fourth floor, 402.
The sound of firecrackers throughout the year will influence his judgement, and it is possible that the murderer did not know which floor the screams were made or which house they were from.
If he goes downstairs and finds out there’s no light on here, he may have identified no one in room 302 below, thereby excluding the option.
The lights in the building were on, the faint light was sewn through the door below, the silk was permeable and there were two shades.
A pair of feet stopped at my door.
The feet were standing for a long time, without any movement, probably listening to the noise in the house.
And for one minute, the door was ringing, and then, boom, boom, boom, knock three times in a few seconds.
“Is anyone home?”
Boom, boom, boom.
“Something fell off your balcony. Anybody home? I’m sorry.
A man’s voice, like a smile.
Prostration, prostration.
Knocking on the door was becoming increasingly urgent, hitting my eardrum and hitting my fragile nerves.
I hold my breath. The man outside the door knocked for a minute and took off.
I was relieved that I should have got up and called the police. I just said there’s a phone in this house.
But I didn’t call the police. I’ve been here for a while, and I think I’ve lost memory of the killer.
I was very scared, and I was very excited, and I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman who was lying down looking at me.
Her death is deeply engraved in my mind and my soul is greatly shaken. I want to paint her too much.
So I sat in front of the drawing board, straight in the dark, and began to paint with the bright light of the fireworks outside.
About an hour later, I heard the sound of a metal collision and the sound of heavy matter falling.
I just reacted.
The killer’s on the balcony!
The balcony is unsealed, only empty bars. There was no lock on the balcony to the door inside.
Upstairs, man, jumped to my balcony.
Then he went to the living room.
The apartment is too small for me to fight.
I’m sitting there like I’m stuck, sitting there, feeling the cold air coming closer.
Suddenly, a hand strangled my throat.
“Then what?” Lusawa says.
I went on to say, “It’s snowing. Chen Ling says, “Snow falls on the rail, except for the part you’re blocking. “He smiled, his hands started to work, and the suffocation was still fresh to me. I’m sorry.
“I see, he looked upstairs and down, except there was no snow on your balcony rail. Because you saw it with your body on the rail, and you scratched the snow. “Luzawa says,
“Yes, so he decided it was me, and he came straight to the door. I’m sorry.
“And?” What did you say when he choked you? I’m sorry.
“My neck is about to be snapped, but my head suddenly calms down. – What did I say, didn’t you think? I’m sorry.
Lusawa shakes his head, “I can’t believe you said that was a prophecy. I’m sorry.
“I said, to be precise, the first sentence let me go and the second sentence let me go. The latter is the prophecy. I’m sorry.
“I can’t believe it. I’m sorry.
I nod my head, “Well, you said I was a sober self-interester, I know that. The point is to be sober. I’m sorry.
“Don’t sell it. I’m sorry.
“There is no room for self-interest. Any transaction is reciprocal and for the benefit of others, for example, this interview, and I want to get your story from Lu, you get my story; similarly, to stop others from hurting me, I have to hurt him. The moment Chen Ling held me around the neck, I realized that it was a deal about human life, and if he wanted to take my life, I had to let him know that there was a price in my life. I’m sorry.
If Luozawa thinks something, “But didn’t you forget to call the police? I’m sorry.
I said, “Yeah, so I have to make up for this. I’m sorry.
“So what did you say? I’m sorry.
“Looks like you still don’t understand me. I can’t help it, “Now I take Chen Ching as an example. I told you before, Chen Ling is smart, smart enough to be human. You know why?
“Why?”
“Because he is a soberer, smarter, less humanist self-servist and better aware of the nature of the trade. As you know about his childhood, he was abducted with his mother by the misogynists, and his mother’s family had little money, and his mother was torn apart. I’m sorry.
“Yes. – Wait a minute. I think I realized something was wrong. If you can’t get the money, why did you just kill his mother and let him go? I’m sorry.
“That’s the problem. I said, “Because it wasn’t his mother who killed him, it was Chen Ling himself. I’m sorry.
“What? I’m sorry.
“Without the money to redeem themselves, the culprits cannot just let them go, and no bad man will believe the empty promise that I will never call the police.”
“So Chen Ling, in order to save his life, allowed the assailants to record evidence of his mother’s murder and made a deal about human life. The two sides held each other’s hands — even more serious than Chen Ling’s crimes — to believe that Chen Ching would never report him, and then released Chen Ridge. I’m sorry.
“…it is true, it is true, but I really didn’t expect him to be so cold-blooded and truly a perverted murderer.” So, do you also…”
“I didn’t. It was just me and Chen Ling. Who could I kill? I can only take advantage of previous mistakes and gamble. I’m sorry.
Luzawa asks: “Is that the police? I’m sorry.
I nod my head, “Hmm. When he grabbed me around the neck, I did everything I could to ask him, “Why didn’t I call the police?” And I showed him that it was a landline phone. I’m sorry.
And Luzawa frowned: Ask him what good he is. Can he believe that you did not call the police to protect him? I’m sorry.
I said, “Of course not. What is the probability that a person who sees the scene of a murder and does not report it to the police when it’s safe for a while, is that someone as insane as me is trying to paint the body of a woman upstairs and forgetting to call the police? I’m sorry.
“This is a very low probability. I’m sorry.
I noded, “So I used this mistake to lie to Chen Ling.”
“Not calling the police because I can’t. I can’t be involved with the police. I told him I was wanted and the police were after me.
“He killed people, so did I. I wouldn’t have gone to the police. We have each other’s hands on each other, so we won’t tell each other, and he doesn’t have to kill me. Killing me is all the more trouble, because I’m on the police wanted list and he’s safe for now, and there’s no need to get involved with me. I’m sorry.
I see. “You’re not the same as Chen Ling’s kidnapping, you’re empty. Why would he believe that you’re wanted? I’m sorry.
“He can really not believe it, but it’s always better than bad not to kill me.
“When I saw her body, I ran into the house and turned off the light, and he didn’t open it, and when he broke in, I didn’t know what he looked like. Various technical investigative techniques were not mature during that period and many relied on witness identification. I don’t know what he looks like. He just tied me up or knocked me out, and then he ran.
“But in any case, it was risky. I did gamble. I was right. He let me go and told me about his previous abduction.
“It’s like he’s got a feeling for me. I’m sorry.
Lusawa has a strange look, “All right, we’re together and you’re with Chen Ling…”
I said, “Yeah. Ha ha. I’m sorry.
“There’s something wrong with me. – Wait, I think I missed something. Let me think.
Luzawa’s eyes are moving.
“You look sick. I’m concerned.
“It’s not well. It was about half an hour ago. I’m sorry.
Lusawa closed her eyes.
“What does it feel like?”
“I’m weak, I’m dizzy, how…”
Lusawa looked at me with his eye open.
The glass on the table was thrown down.
“It’s just some sedated hypnotics. I took a rope from the side, “My usual medicine.” Of course, I’ve had enough of this. It’s just a big deal for you. I’m sorry.
“What do you want to do…” Rusawa tried to contain it, stood up on the table and fell down.
“Let me remind you, you missed something. “I rise and go down next to him, ‘It’s a prophecy. I’m sorry.
“I’m wanted.” It’s a prophecy. Over the past two decades, the prophecy of that year is now coming true. I’m sorry.
“Why” is full of fear.
I took the rope slowly around his neck.
“It may be bad luck for ordinary people, but for me it is a blessing, a gift from God to someone like me without talent. I’m sorry.
The ropes were crossed behind the neck and Lusawa struggled to climb to the door.
“He made me understand that I’m not really gifted, I’m just a gifted switch that’s different from normal people. I’m sorry.
The rope begins to tighten.
“My best work, “The Goddess” , is that year’s New Year’s Eve, when women upstairs fell down. I took the painting to the garden teacher, and he was really moved, and he looked at it and lamented that it was love, and then I was free to go to class. I’m sorry.
“But I was never able to draw a good work anymore. I’m sorry.
The ropes were tightened and Lusawa felt suffocated.
“I keep reminiscent of the state of mind, tension, excitement, excitement, nothing. – I can paint as long as I can get my mental state this way.
“I’ve tried so many ways over the years, drinking, driving and even taking drugs, and I’ve been devastated by my mind’s insinuation. But no matter what I do, I can’t get what I want.
“All failed attempts over the years are constantly proving to me — only death, only the death of human beings. I’m sorry.
Keep the ropes tight. Lusawa has painfully raised his upper half, stretched his hand up and demanded some kind of invisible asylum.
I said, “Well, that’s the position. Please hold on a second.
“It was lucky to have met Chen Ling 18 years ago, and I made the goddess. What are the chances of a person meeting a murderer in his or her lifetime, and of seeing a murderer’s killer first-hand?
“It can be met without need. You can’t always have such bad luck, once in a lifetime. If you want it, you have to fight for it.
“For years, I have endured mediocre pain and the desire to kill has been restrained. The former eventually prevailed over the latter. Chen Ching has come to my senses that I can no longer wait passively, that I can no longer rely on others to help, and that I have to do it on my own to create the death of humanity. I’m sorry.
The rope deep into the skin.
“I know it means falling and ending my career. But it is a happy end, more meaningful than a hopeless and unnecessary existence.
“It is too painful — how can I accept me, who drew the goddess, forever and ever. I can’t take it. I’ve been a walker for over a decade. I have endured for more than a decade to stop killing people.
“Now, I can finally draw a sequel to The Goddess. God sent the goddess’s child to me. You’ve been haunting me for more than a month, and I’ve rejected it so many times that you won’t leave. – I can’t, I shouldn’t.
“Intuition tells me that the goddess in the painting and you are the mother and son. You went to heaven to be reunited with your mother, and that was your success, and your dedication will be my success. I’m sorry.
“Everyone is happy. I’m sorry.
“That’s all I have to say. I’m sorry.
I said calmly.
An hour ago, the police came to the remote painting room in the western building of the complex and saw a man, a body and two paintings.
One is the goddess, now known as the mother. The other one is the Son.
The mother depicts a mother leaning down her body, reaching her hand down and trying to protect her; the son depicts a child falling, stretching up on the upper half, demanding the protection of the mother.
The characters are all face-to-face outside the frame. The way the two paintings look at each other is to look at each other in the face, the mother in the top and the child in the bottom, so that the two people in the picture look straight in the eye and finally have a focus.
They’re all complete.
“What’s the story of these two paintings? The police ask questions.
“The mother took the train that left her home, looked down from the window, reached out her hand and tried to finally comfort her child; the child pursued the train and fell on the ground, reaching only in vain to keep her hand in her direction. I’m sorry.
“It’s the story of Lu. The police said, “Okay, let’s go. I’m sorry.
The police are going to take me back to the police station.
The police still seem to be upset when they come to the door and ask: “So are they real mothers and children?” I’m sorry.
We said, “For now, I can only be irresponsible and intuitive to think that they are mothers and children. But I do want to have a scientific theory, that is, to be confirmed by DNA tests, that is to be successful. This will require the help of police comrades. I’m sorry.
The police shook their heads: “I can’t do it. The woman who died on New Year’s Eve, as you call her, died without a body. I even thought that was your assumption. I’m sorry.
“She certainly exists. And I said, “That night on the balcony, I stretched out my hand and tried to pick up the snowflake, and I didn’t think that she had dropped two drops of blood in my hand. — This is the beginning of the story and it should also be the end of the story. I’m sorry.
“The two drops of blood are on my drawings, please, Officer. I’m sorry.
End of text. Record number: YX11VXr84WY
I don’t know.
Keep your eyes on the road.
