The Decaying Dream of America: I Assemble Corpses and Confront Madness

The evening breeze, carrying a chilly dampness, tried to lift the winter coat that Lin Zheng was tightly wrapped in.

He pulled his baseball cap down even lower, hunched his body, and quickened his pace.

The image of the old woman's distorted expression as she struggled to mimic the smile of a mannequin remained vivid in Lin Zheng's mind.

That smile was reflected in the glass opposite her, revealing a hollowed-out hope.

He walked through several dimly lit alleys, avoiding the rats that occasionally darted past the garbage cans.

The graffiti on the wall appeared indistinct in the night, making it difficult to discern whether it was satire or prayer.

He stopped when a bare, even somewhat weathered, metal door came into view.

This is his apartment, an old building, worn and ravaged by time, standing in an inconspicuous corner at the far end of Emerald Dream City's bustling end.

The rent is cheap, and the space is cramped, but it's enough to isolate you from the hustle and bustle of the world, at least on the surface.

Lin Zheng took out his key and turned the heavy lock.

Inside, it was pitch black.

He didn't turn on the light, but walked to the window and looked outside through the glass.

The night was dark, with only the red warning lights on the rooftops of distant buildings flashing incessantly.

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning slightly forward, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the rough texture of the sheets.

There's no fireplace, no Christmas tree, and no steaming cocoa.

There was only a lonely international student and his cell phone.

The cold screen lit up in the darkness, and he saw the time: 1:30 a.m.

At this time, parents in China should have just finished lunch and are taking a nap afterward.

Almost the instant he stared at his phone screen, the screen suddenly lit up and vibrated.

The familiar caller ID jumped out at me: "Dad".

Lin Zheng suddenly held his breath, stood up and hurriedly turned on the light, patted his stiff face, and forcibly tightened his smiling muscles.

Suppress those images of cold reality and numb eyes, and lock all the weariness, chill, and disappointment into the deepest part of your heart.

He forced a smile and quickly adjusted his tone of voice before speaking.

He connected to a video call.

"Hey Dad, what made you think of calling me?" Lin Zheng teased first, trying to divert his father's attention away from him.

A father's stiff but concerned voice came from the other end of the phone: "Zhengzi, aren't you asleep yet? It's already past midnight."

"It's a holiday over there today, why are you bothering with this? The child must have gone out to play." The mother patted the father's back, her rosy cheeks resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I just finished a gathering with my friends and I haven't gone to sleep yet," Lin Zheng said, waving his hand.

His mother waved and greeted Lin Zheng with a smile, "Don't be stingy with your money during the holiday. I'll send you some more later so you can buy yourself some new clothes and go out to have a meal with your friends."

"Okay, Mom, I'll be back as soon as winter break starts." Lin Zheng's heart ached, his lips pursed slightly, his eyes were moist, and his voice was choked with sobs.

The further I travel abroad, the more I miss home.

The father sighed softly, his voice tinged with reproach: "You need to take good care of yourself while you're out there. Don't stay up so late all the time, okay?"

"I know what I'm doing, why say so much? Let's talk about something happy. How's the holiday today, Zheng'er?" The mother took the phone from the father's hand with a smile on her face.

Lin Zheng glanced subconsciously out the dark window.

He recalled the children screaming excitedly in front of shop windows on Central Avenue during the day, the couples kissing, and the elderly couples embracing.

He also recalled, of course, the homeless people on the other side of that glittering shop window, pressing themselves against the glass and staring blankly at the mannequin families.

He chose the lie.

"It's so lively, Dad! The school is holding a huge party." Lin Zheng described his imagination in his tone.

"The professors were very hospitable and made a lot of authentic Christmas dishes, like roast turkey, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie... I licked the plates clean, haha!"

He even vividly described the festive foods he had only seen in movies but had never tasted.

"As long as we can fill our stomachs, that's good enough. As the old saying goes, health is the foundation of everything." The father leaned closer again, raised a glass of wine, and took a sip in front of the screen.

The mother also flipped the camera to show the food on the table, "Look at this delicious food. We're celebrating with you today too. Your dad is allowed to have a couple of drinks with you at home. When you come back, you can have more drinks."

"Okay, then you'd better prepare some of my favorite foods when I get back." Lin Zheng placed his phone on the bed facing the ceiling, tilted his head back, sniffed, and wiped away his tears.

"It's cold outside, wear more clothes, don't sacrifice warmth for style."

Lin Zheng glanced at the faded work jacket he was wearing.

"Don't worry, Mom, I'm dressed warmly enough, I've even put on my long johns, I'm not cold at all."

"And what about the streets outside? Is it like in the movies, with colorful lights and Santa Claus everywhere?" the father asked again.

Lin Zheng adjusted his tone again, making it sound more cheerful.

He paused, trying his best to erase the image of the separation between heaven and hell from his mind.

"Yeah, there are colorful lights everywhere, Santa Claus is playing cards in front of the store, the streets are so lively, and there are even people performing on the street." He smiled and swayed his body towards the screen.

"That's good, that's good." The mother said with relief, "Have fun, okay? We're relieved that you're doing well."

The father chimed in, "Yes, when you get there, make sure you interact with your classmates and teachers, and make some friends. We don't have an advantage over the foreigners there, so we'll build relationships, give them gifts, treat them to meals, and help the teachers with their work."

"Okay, I understand, Dad, Mom," Lin Zheng replied softly.

"Everything is fine here. I'll do my job well, Dad, Mom, don't worry." He repeated this sentence that he had said countless times.

A traveler wanders far and wide, reporting only good news and not bad.

When you're away from home, telling your family bad news will only make them worry and keep them up at night. But they can't come to your side immediately, so why make them worry? This is true for most people who wander far from home.

"Okay, I understand. Take care of yourselves too." Lin Zheng waved to his parents on the other side of the screen one last time.

Both sides were waving, neither willing to hang up first.

Lin Zheng inexplicably thought of Yu Guangzhong's "Nostalgia". When he was at home, he didn't have any special feelings about this poem, but as soon as he went out and went far away, he kept thinking about it, thinking about the mountains, the water and the people of his hometown.

Finally, he hung up the phone first.

He knew that his parents missed him and wanted to see him more, but if he looked at them a few more times, tears would fall first.

He leaned back, and every cell in his body suddenly relaxed at that moment. Then, exhaustion and emptiness made him collapse onto the bed.

He lay on his back on the bed, feeling the hard texture between his body and the bed frame.

He stared at the ceiling with his eyes open, the bright incandescent light blinding him, and he couldn't see anything. He closed his eyes, but all the false images he had woven on the phone were reflected before him.

The old woman's smile reappeared in my mind.

Pale, pitch black, an emptiness devoid of anything, filled with an illusion, stiff, distorted, getting closer and further away, kind and terrifying, overlapping and then separating.

She smiled, a smile that was both warm and terrifying.

He was afraid of the cold, not the warmth.