You're just a locksmith! What are you doing catching swindlers at the start?

"Are you a locksmith?"

"right."

"Drive faster. Hurry up."

As he spoke, he reached into his down jacket pocket with his right hand, then took it out empty.

His fingers tapped lightly at his side, without rhythm, like an uncontrollable tremor.

Lin Zhou squatted down and looked at the door lock.

Half a key was inserted into the keyhole, its copper-yellow broken end protruding and flush with the keyhole.

"The key broke inside."

"Can you get it done?"

The young man stood behind him, his voice coming down from above, carrying a strange sense of urgency.

"Yes, but the lock cylinder needs to be replaced. The break is too deep; even if you take it out, the lock cylinder will be unusable."

Lin Zhou took out a small flashlight from his toolbox and shone it on the keyhole.

The light shines on the cross-section of the broken key.

The metal break is old, not recently twisted off.

There is a dark oxide layer on the broken surface, indicating that it has been broken for at least a few days.

Lin Zhou turned his head and glanced at him.

"How long have you had this key broken?"

The young man paused for a moment.

He moved his hand, which was in his pocket. "...Two days. It stopped two days ago."

"How have you been coming and going these past two days?"

"No one went in or out."

The young man's voice became more urgent.

"I haven't left the house for two days. I went out to buy cigarettes this morning, and the wind blew the door shut. Please open it quickly."

Lin Zhou looked at him for two seconds.

Then turn back and take the tools out of the toolbox.

The broken key is stuck deep inside the lock cylinder.

He used a thin hook to reach inside, hooked it onto the end of the key, and gently twisted it with his fingers.

The hook caught the groove of the broken key, and he slowly pulled it out, the broken key gradually coming out.

The sound of metal rubbing together was very faint, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet hallway.

The broken key has been retrieved.

Lin Zhou held it in his palm and looked at it.

The key is bronze-colored, and the break is old.

He left the key on the shoe cabinet by the door.

The lock cylinder is indeed ruined.

Lin Zhou removed the old lock cylinder and took out a new one from his toolbox.

He aligned the new lock cylinder with the keyhole, pinched the edge with his fingers, and slowly pushed it in.

Tighten the two screws, and the lock cylinder is secured.

He took two new keys out of his pocket and tried them. The latch popped open, and the door opened a crack. He locked it again, and it popped open again. Smoothly.

The whole process takes about four minutes.

The comments section was quiet, with only one or two occasionally appearing.

"This lock is taking longer to open today."

"It took a while to retrieve the broken key."

"The Three-Second King didn't have three seconds today."

"Wait, this customer's status is incorrect."

He was shaking.

"It's not the kind of shivering you get from the cold, it's a withdrawal reaction."

How did you know, upstairs?

"I've seen it. My uncle is a drug addict, and this is what happens when he has a drug flare-up."

Holy crap!

Lin Zhou stood up and patted the dust off his knees.

"Alright. 200 for unlocking, 150 for replacing the lock cylinder, 350 in total."

A young man walked up behind him and took the keys.

He tried the door, opened it, locked it again, and opened it again.

He nodded.

Then he took a fifty-yuan note out of his pocket.

He shoved fifty yuan into Lin Zhou's hand quickly, as if he were throwing away something he didn't want to touch.

"Fifty. Take it or leave it."

He didn't look at Lin Zhou.

He opened the door, squeezed in sideways, and then slammed the door shut in front of Lin Zhou.

His voice came through the crack in the door, muffled behind the door panel.

"Hurry up and leave, don't waste my time."

Lin Zhou stood at the door.

Clutching the fifty-yuan note in his hand, the crumpled banknote pressed against his palm.

Looking at the fifty yuan in my hand.

Lin Zhou smiled.

I laughed out of anger.

Do you really think locksmiths are easy to bully?

I'll take it apart the way I put it!

The live chat exploded.

"Fifty?"

"Three hundred and fifty, give fifty?"

He closed the door.

"The Three-Second King is locked outside."

He just said, "Take it or leave it."

"That tone was like treating a beggar like dirt."

"The lock-picking master's hands are clenched tightly."

Lin Zhou folded the fifty yuan in half and put it in his pocket.

Then he squatted down and pulled the thin hook out of his toolbox.

Insert it into the keyhole.

The chat fell silent.

What is he going to do?

"He removed the lock cylinder?"

"Wait, he just installed it."

He was removing the lock cylinder he had just installed.

Lin Zhou gently twirled his fingers.

The hook pressed against the retaining spring inside the lock cylinder and pushed upwards.

With a click, the lock cylinder popped out.

He disassembled the entire new lock cylinder and held it in his hand.

It's bronze-yellow, brand new, and was installed less than two minutes ago.

All that remained of the keyhole was a circular hole, letting in the darkness beyond the door.

He put the disassembled lock cylinder into his tool bag.

Zip it up.

stand up.

Then he reached out and pushed the door open.

The door was unlocked.

Because the lock cylinder is gone.

Lin Zhou was just about to say that he had taken the lock cylinder.

I was interrupted by a pungent smell and could not say what I was about to say.

It wasn't the smell of smoke, nor the smell of mold; it was a much more pungent smell of plastic.

Then a scene came into view.

The living room is not big.

A young man was squatting next to the coffee table.

He had his back to the door.

His left arm was resting flat on the coffee table, with the sleeve rolled up above his elbow.

He was holding a syringe in his right hand.

The needle has already pierced a blood vessel on the inside of the forearm.

My thumb is on the plunger of the syringe, and I'm slowly pushing it down.

The clear liquid slowly descended into the syringe.

His body slowly relaxed as the liquid was injected, his shoulders slumped down from their hunched position, like a garment being taken off a hanger.

The chat instantly fell silent.

The white text flow stopped, and the screen went blank for a moment.

Then it exploded.

He's getting an injection.

"syringe"

"Inner forearm, blood vessel, push in."

"Holy shit!"

"He really is a drug user."

"The guy who mentioned withdrawal symptoms was right."

"Call the police"

"Stop looking and leave!"

"Locksmith King, get out of here!"

The young man pressed his thumb all the way down.

He pulled the syringe out of his forearm with practiced ease, as if he had done it many times before.

A drop of blood came out with the needle as it left his skin, and he pressed it with a tissue from the coffee table.

Then he tilted his head back and leaned against the sofa.

The light from the energy-saving lamp shone on his face, casting shadows on his cheekbones, and his lips were slightly parted.

With eyes closed, the eyeballs slowly rotate beneath the eyelids.

The expression wasn't one of pain.

It is a kind of relaxation.

Then his eyes opened.

He turned his head and saw Lin Zhou standing at the door.

The air froze for about half a second.

He sat up abruptly.

He gripped the syringe in his right palm and hid it behind his back.

His movements were flustered, like a thief who had been caught.

The syringe was empty, with only a single drop remaining on the transparent tube wall.

He stepped back, his back hitting the back of the sofa, leaving him with nowhere to retreat.

"I--"

His voice was different from before.

It was not a feeling of panic, but rather a feeling of panic.

"How did you get in here? Didn't you see I'm injecting insulin? I have diabetes."

As he said this, his left hand instinctively hid behind his back.

The scabs on the inside of my forearm were clearly visible under the light, one on top of another, the old ones yellowish and the new ones still tinged with blood.

Lin Zhou looked at him.

Look into his eyes.

The comments section was scrolling wildly.

"That's not how you inject insulin."

"Insulin is injected subcutaneously, but he injected a vein."