The June sunshine filtered in through the half-open wooden door of the used bookstore, dragging a lazy strip of light on the floor.
Zheng Yu was lying on the rocking chair, his flip phone clasped on his chest, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. The rocking chair creaked and swayed, and the rhythm was so slow that it seemed to stop.
The bookstore is called "Nothing" and is located at the end of an old alley on Linjiang Road. The crooked-neck locust tree at the entrance of the alley blocks most of the signboard, and you can't even see it unless you look for it. His is the only shop in the entire alley that is still open. The tailor shop next door moved away last year, and the chess and card room opposite also closed last month.
He likes this quietness.
The phone vibrated.
Zheng Yu didn't open his eyes. His fingers touched the phone and opened it, then closed it again.
Spam text messages.
The rocking chair continued to rock.
There were footsteps at the door. It wasn't the kind of footsteps that were passing by, it was coming here - the pace was fast, the center of gravity was unstable, and the soles of the shoes made a harsh friction sound on the stone road.
Zheng Yu's brows moved but he didn't open his eyes.
With a bang, the wooden door was pushed open and hit the wall.
"Boss! Is the boss here?"
