At 11 o'clock in the evening, the system automatically took an order for me.
1404, Building 3, Cuiting Community. The delivery fee is three hundred yuan. No one in the group of more than 300 riders dared to pick up the order—no one lived in that building for a long time, and the accounts of the brothers who had taken the order had all been cancelled.
After it was delivered, the door opened a crack. One hand reached out and pulled the meal in. Before the door closed, the person inside called my name. Real name. I haven't told any clients.
The order is automatically confirmed. The consignee is not me, but Lao Zhou. Lao Zhou was my master and disappeared two months ago. The last order he sent was 1404, Building 3, Cuiting Community.
Lao Zhou left a letter on the wall of 1404, saying that he was "going down". There are no rooms in 1404 - it is a dry well that has been sealed for thirty years. There is something under the well. Every few years a rider is automatically sent to 1404. Once it was delivered, he became the new well guard. Lao Zhou was the last one. It's my turn.
There is a tiger mark on the palm of my hand - it was stamped with copper coins. Cuiting is the seventh well, and there are six more along the Yangtze River. If the seven wells cannot be sealed, seepage will come up from the bottom of the wells. Not water. It's something that can swallow up a whole street. Lao Zhou was holding down the well, but he couldn't hold it down for long.
A delivery boy, an old copper coin, and seven keys that I don't know what they look like. And the tiger print on the palm of my hand is getting hotter and hotter.
