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

"Three-Second King, what's your mental fortitude made of?"

"His hand didn't even shake when he was about to go viral."

"Locksmith King: I'm here to fix locks and have a smoke while I'm at it."

The drug addict was completely dumbfounded.

He was truly bewildered; he stood there, unsure of what to do.

"Because he wasn't sure whether the Three-Second King actually saw him inject the drug."

"When a normal person sees drugs being injected, their first reaction is fear, and they want to run away as fast as they can. But not only did 'Three-Second King' not run away, he also squatted down to fix the lock and even lit a cigarette."

"The drug addict is probably thinking: Did he see it or not? If he saw it, why did he dare ask me for a lighter? If he didn't see it... then why is he dragging his feet?"

"The lock-picking master stumped the other person with just one cigarette."

"This is psychological warfare."

"The 'Three-Second King' isn't smoking a cigarette, he's using tactics."

The young man was indeed stunned.

He stood next to Lin Zhou, clutching the lighter in his hand, the transparent casing damp with the sweat from his palm.

He watched Lin Zhou squatting on the ground smoking—smoke billowing from the corners of his mouth, rising slowly in the morning light.

Lin Zhou's expression was calm, as if he were fixing a lock at his own front door and taking a break to smoke a cigarette.

His lips moved.

"you……"

Lin Zhou looked up, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and squinted through the smoke.

"Um?"

"...It's nothing."

Lin Zhou lowered his head and continued to look at the lock cylinder.

He took the cigarette out of his mouth, held it between his fingers, picked up the lock cylinder with his other hand, and examined it against the light.

He flicked the cigarette ash off the door panel with his finger.

"Your lock cylinder,"

He had a cigarette dangling from his lips, and his voice was muffled.

"After installation, you'll need to lift the door slightly to unlock it. The door frame is warped, and the latch and the door frame's groove won't align. If you don't lift it, the latch will bend over time."

The young man nodded, but it was unclear whether he had taken it all in.

His eyes were fixed on Lin Zhou's hand—not on the locksmith, but on the cigarette.

Lin Zhou saw it.

He took the cigarette pack out of his pocket.

Take one out and hand it over.

"Want one?"

The young man looked at the cigarette.

I looked at it for two seconds.

Then reach out and take it.

He put the cigarette in his mouth and leaned down to look at the lighter in Lin Zhou's hand.

Two people squatted at the doorway, facing each other, each with a cigarette in their mouth.

Lin Zhou slowly gestured with the lock cylinder, and the young man watched him gesture.

Smoke rose among them, mingled together, and dissipated in the morning light.

The viewers in the live chat were at a loss for words.

They were smoking together.

"Three-Second King and a drug addict who had just injected drugs were squatting at the door, smoking together."

"The locksmith offered him a cigarette."

"He wasn't just offering a cigarette; he was offering a sense of security. Offering a cigarette makes the other person feel, 'This person doesn't see me as a monster.'"

"After the drug user smoked that cigarette, his shoulders visibly relaxed."

"The Three-Second King used a cigarette to lower the other party's guard."

"He can dawdle anytime now; the other party won't rush him."

"Because they've smoked together before."

Lin Zhou pulled the cigarette down to the filter.

The orange-red embers burned to their end, and he stubbed out the cigarette on the ground.

The cigarette ash and butts were crushed together on the cement floor, leaving a small black mark.

He realigned the lock cylinder with the keyhole.

This time, he still couldn't get it in.

He placed the lock cylinder on his lap and then took out the small file from his toolbox.

"It wasn't filed properly just now."

He said the voice was very flat.

"Fix it again."

The sound of a file scraping against metal rang out again.

Sizzle, sizzle.

The morning light shone in from the hallway, falling on his back and casting his shadow on the living room floor.

The shadow stretched long, from the doorway all the way to the edge of the coffee table.

The young man squatted opposite him, a cigarette between his fingers, almost burning down to the filter.

He didn't inhale anymore, just let it burn.

Time passed by, second by second.

Lin Zhou put down the file.

I picked up the lock cylinder and held it up to the light.

He blew away the metal shavings. Then he aligned the lock cylinder with the keyhole and slowly pushed it in.

Lin Zhou stopped when the lock cylinder was halfway in.

The sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance.

It was very light. So light that it was almost inaudible.

It sounded like it was coming from several streets away, but was blocked by buildings, leaving only a faint frequency.

But the young man heard it.

His body tensed up suddenly.

His back arched, his fingers stopped tapping, and he looked like a cat that had heard footsteps.

He turned his head and looked towards the doorway.

The hallway was empty; there was nothing there.

The siren sounded intermittently, as if it were circling around this old neighborhood, not yet finding the correct intersection.

He turned his head and looked at Lin Zhou.

Lin Zhou was still squatting on the ground, holding the half-filled lock cylinder in his hand.

"It's a police car." The young man's voice changed.

Lin Zhou nodded. "Yeah. Maybe they were just passing by."

He continued to push the lock cylinder inward.

The young man stood up.

His knee clicked.

He looked at Lin Zhou.

Lin Zhou is still installing the lock cylinder.

The lock cylinder has been pushed in two-thirds of the way, with only the last section sticking out.

His fingers pinched the end of the lock cylinder and slowly pushed it in.

His movements were as steady as if he were winding up a watch.

"Can you hurry up?"

The young man's voice came from above.

It wasn't the impatient urging of before, but a pleading tone.

"Almost there," Lin Zhou said, pushing the pin a little further with his fingers. "The last bit. The latch is a bit tight."

The lock cylinder was pushed in a little further.

Now only one edge is exposed.

The sirens grew closer.

This time I could hear the direction clearly—it came from the road at the entrance of the residential area. The sound echoed among the buildings, rising and falling.

The young man took a step toward the door.

They stepped back again.

He reached into his down jacket pocket, pulled something out, and then put it back in.

His breathing became rapid, his chest heaving, and a small patch of sweat soaked the collar of his gray T-shirt.

Lin Zhou pushed the lock cylinder in.

Click.

The sound of the tenons meshing together.

The lock cylinder was perfectly fitted into the keyhole, its copper-yellow end face flush with the door panel.

He took two new keys out of his pocket and inserted them.

Rotate.

The latch popped out and then retracted.

Smooth.

"alright."

He stood up and dusted off his knees.

Put the tools back into the toolbox one by one.

Iron wire, L-shaped steel bar, bending tool, small flashlight, file.

His movements were neither fast nor slow, just like after fixing a lock for any normal customer on any normal morning.

A young man stood beside him.

Lin Zhou zipped up his tool bag and slung it over his shoulder. He pulled two new keys from the lock and turned to hand them to the young man. The young man reached out to take them. Lin Zhou didn't let go when his fingers touched the keys. The two men each held one end of the keys, the metal teeth digging between their fingertips.