Starting with the flesh-based stimulant

Once inside Jincheng, there were quite a few people around.

The postman, riding a bicycle with green canvas bags hanging on both sides of the rear wheel, splashed water from a puddle as the bicycle wheels rolled over the asphalt road, soiling Zhou He's trouser legs.

It's not really that dirty.

Zhou smiled and walked forward along the main road into the city.

The layout of Jincheng is very simple: a river, with mountains stretching along the east bank, and a long, narrow line on the west bank that forms Jincheng.

Finding a quiet street corner, Zhou He squatted down, pulled down his fisherman's hat, squinted, and basked in the sun.

He enjoyed the tranquility of the moment; at least for now, he felt a sense of freedom.

A little girl, about six or seven years old, wearing a blue plaid skirt, broke free from her father's hand and tiptoed to Zhou He. She was holding a few coins in her hand and looked around for a long time but couldn't find the broken bowl, so she was a little unhappy.

Her father approached, glanced at Zhou He, his expression changed drastically, and he picked up his daughter and left.

Opposite Zhou He was squatting, there was a guesthouse with dilapidated white tiles and soot marks, as if someone had set it on fire. The signboard was also mostly broken, reading "Yongqiang Guesthouse," and there was a set of steps leading down from it.

Zhou He thought about it for a moment and then understood.

This guesthouse appears to be a basement, and there seems to be an arcade upstairs.

There were a few scrawny-looking teenagers gathered in twos and threes at the entrance. They were all thin and were huddled together, taking money out of their pockets, probably wanting to play some games.

Further to the side, there was a roasted chestnut stall. Even in the middle of summer, not many people would go there to eat roasted chestnuts. The owner was hiding under a parasol, squinting his eyes.

"That's wonderful," Zhou He said, his eyes narrowing. "That's wonderful."

He squatted there until the sun slowly moved westward.

He wasn't thinking about anything; he was just greedily peering into this peaceful world through the slits in his eyes.

The tranquility was shattered the next moment.

A truck drove up, and several men in black uniforms stood in the truck bed, their hands on their waists.

Among them was a woman being carried up with her head down. Her head was drooping, and her dirty hair was curled up, obscuring her face, so her appearance was not clear.

The woman had a sign stuck behind her neck with a few words written on it in black charcoal:

"The crime of eating meat if you disobey orders"

The truck drove slowly, probably wanting people on the roadside to see it clearly. The crowd hiding from the sun on the roadside slowly gathered on the street, their eyes fixed on the woman in the truck. No one made a fuss or caused a scene.

They just remained silent, watching the truck drive past the intersection and slowly disappear.

Zhou He smiled, adjusted his hat, stood up to stretch his stiff legs, and walked towards the guesthouse across the street.

"Boss, I'd like a room."

He walked down the stairs. The basement of the guesthouse was a bit damp, and a single incandescent light was on, but it wasn't very clear.

Behind the counter, the withered old man turned around and gave Zhou He a somewhat disdainful look:

"The big bed costs 1.5 yuan. There's an outhouse at the back. If you want to stay there, wash off the smell of blood and flesh so others won't mind."

Zhou smiled, responded, and tossed over ten crumpled coins—the ones the old hunchback had left him.

"How many days will you stay?"

"Stay for a week."

"Okay, one week," the old man said, fiddling with the abacus for a moment, "I owe you fifty cents."

Zhou He took out another dollar, dropped it on the counter, thought for a moment, and then took out another dollar:

"Find me some newspapers, new ones."

The old man looked up and stared at Zhou He for a while:

"A literate scholar? How did he end up like this?"

Zhou He ignored him and walked in the direction the old man pointed.

The basement wasn't spacious; it was enclosed by two walls, forming a passageway.

The rooms are on both sides of the corridor. The one in front is a single room with no windows, but at least only one person lives there.

Zhou He's room, located near the toilet, had several cracks in its cement floor caused by water seepage.

Pushing open the door, you see a row of large kang beds, divided into about ten beds by ropes.

Several beds had curtains hanging over them, and voices could be faintly heard coming from behind them.

Zhou found a bed that looked fairly clean, and then, realizing he didn't have much luggage to put there, he went outside to the sink in front of the toilet.

The pool was also made of cement, and the faucet seemed to be unable to be turned off tightly, dripping water droplets.

Amidst the sound of water droplets, two men were punching and kicking the boy on the ground.

"You son of a bitch, you stole my money, don't you want to live anymore?"

"Grandpa, spare me! I won't do it again!"

The people on the ground were huddled together, and the sounds they made were not loud.

Zhou He ignored him, turned sideways and went around to rub his dirty clothes in the pool to wash off the bloodstains.

After washing up, I went back to my room.

Coincidentally, the person lying next to his bed, rubbing his ribs and groaning, seemed to be the boy who had just been beaten.

Here, your newspaper.

The old man walked in, tossed a stack of newspapers to Zhou He, who took them, smiled at the old man, and leaned against the headboard to start reading.

"Sir, are you reading the newspaper?"

The boy next to him had been groaning for a long time, then leaned closer to Zhou He and asked in a low voice.

Zhou He shook his head:

No, I'm dancing.

"You're clearly reading the newspaper... What's written in the newspaper?"

Zhou and Xiaoxiao:

"It says that Grandpa Jincheng doesn't allow people to eat meat."

"That happened six months ago!"

The boy said in a muffled voice.

Zhou He glanced at the newspaper; the date was June 21, 1999.

"This is the newspaper from June 21st," he said, then asked, "What's your name?"

"Hey kid, that's what you call me, sir. Is today the 21st? Why haven't you changed the news in the newspaper?"

Zhou He shook his head: "I don't know... Little Gouwa, are you a thief?"

Ga Gouwazi blushed, lowered his head, and after a long while, said in a muffled voice, "I haven't eaten for days."

"Here's what we'll do: I'll give you one yuan a day, and you can show me around Jincheng. Do you know this area?"

"Sir, I grew up here."

The little dog replied, then asked, "Where are you going?"

Zhou He folded the newspaper, placed it on the bedside table, used it as a pillow, lay down, stared at the incandescent light on the basement ceiling for a long time, and then whispered:

"I have no idea."

"Sir, where are you from?"

"I have no idea."

"What do you do for a living, sir?"

"I have no idea."

Zhou He's voice grew softer and softer.

Who am I, really?

Where did it come from?

What should we do?

Zhou He didn't know.

The incandescent light wasn't very bright, and it would occasionally flicker slightly, causing Zhou to squint.

"Sir, are you really going to give me the money?"

Zhou and Xiaoxiao took out a one-yuan bill from their pocket and handed it to Ga Gouwa'er:

"Tomorrow's."

After saying that, he closed his eyes. Little Gouwa seemed to have something else to ask, his lips moved a few times, but no sound came out.