The Floating City on the Other Shore 9. Looking Back is Easy

  Even if I'm forced to be in this interrogation room with him, it doesn't mean I want to be treated like a lover, being held close and intimate. As I frown and try to push him away, his hand on my waist seems casual, but is actually gripping tightly. And when his head slips off my shoulder, it somehow automatically sticks back on. It makes me wonder if he's asleep or awake?

  Staring dejectedly at the arm lying across his waist, he suddenly wondered if it was this very arm that had been pulled away from him in that dream-like state earlier. At the same time, a voice in his heart asked: Was it really just a dream?

  It's not the first time that such a strange image has appeared, in Mr. Wu's home, especially on the balcony, I seem to be able to feel Mr. Wu's sorrowful mood at his last moment and the little girl's fear; this time it's even more absurd, just by looking at a few photos of the scene, my mind seems to be able to imagine the scene before Yu Xiuping's death.

  I couldn't help but glance sideways, my gaze settling on the attractive curve of his chin. Just a few hours ago, when I told him how I really felt, he said: "God created humans to be fair, and fools also have their own advantages." Then he added that painters rely on rich imagination, implying that I was fabricating nonsense.

  Is it really because I can paint that I have fancifully put myself into the emotions of those people, thereby producing these dreamlike illusions?

  His gaze shifted back to the face that only had a chin left in his line of sight, with some blue stubble emerging, surrounded by a purely masculine aura, and there seemed to be a faint scent of cologne. I'm not familiar with this aspect, so I couldn't even call out a name. I was puzzled, having known him for only a few days, how did I end up "sticking" together with this person?

  Still remember that day...

  I just received an order to create promotional illustrations for a stage play, and I was still thinking about it in the elevator on my way home from the gallery. When I arrived at my floor, I absent-mindedly took out my key to open the door, but then I heard a "clunk" sound coming from next door. My conditioned reflex made me turn my head to look, and I saw the door being pulled open from inside, followed by a black trash bag being thrown out into the hallway.

  Suddenly I remembered something that had almost been forgotten by me.

  A week ago, the landlady knocked on my door and said that her useless son was expelled from school for violating school rules while studying abroad. She didn't go into details, only vaguely mentioning that his foot was injured and he had difficulty moving around. Before he could even settle in after returning home, something happened at their factory back in their hometown, so the couple had to rush back together to deal with it.

  Then he came to entrust me with taking good care of his son who stayed behind to recover from injuries.

  These two days have been spent working overtime in the gallery until late at night, and I don't even know when this young man arrived.

  Needless to say, the landlady is a rich woman. The two houses on this floor, each with an area of 120 square meters, are all owned by the landlady, including the storefront of my painting gallery downstairs.

  Seeing the door closing, he opened his mouth and shouted: "Hey......" Thinking it wasn't right, he hastily shouted again: "That... Mr. Gao, wait a minute!" He vaguely remembered that the landlord's surname was Gao, had met him once, and was a very rich and gentle middle-aged man.

  Just as I was about to take a big step forward, the door that was closing suddenly stopped.

  In the remaining 20 cm of space, a wheel similar to that of a wheelchair appeared in view, with a black trouser leg and sheepskin slippers, but no face was visible. Slightly awkwardly facing the door panel: "Mr. Gao, your mother, who is also my landlord, asked me to take care of you before leaving H City. If you have any difficulties that need help, feel free to speak up."

  I took over the landlord's entrustment, and it was necessary to greet him. Moreover, it seemed that he indeed had mobility issues and needed help with many things. But my polite inquiry was like a stone thrown into a lake, without even causing a ripple, and after a few seconds of silence, "bang", the door closed...

  He rubbed his nose, apparently having been rejected by the other party.

  I turned around sullenly and hadn't taken a step when I heard the sound of the door opening behind me, in a calm tone: "I'm hungry."