On the eighty-third day after my father disappeared, he sent me a package.
There were three things inside: a copper key, an old flashlight, and a piece of yellow paper folded in four.
On the yellow paper are calligraphy: Late Night Pawn Shop. This is received: Lin Shouzhuo is your "life". Current period: no limit. Ransom price: negotiable.
Lin Shouzhuo is my father. The date of signature was the night he disappeared.
This shop can be found on the map: at the end of the old street in the south of the city. There is no house number, no phone number, and no business hours. The only comment six years ago was only five words - "Don't look for it, come at night."
My name is Lin Xi, 26 years old, a community grid member, with a monthly salary of 4,330 yuan. During the day, I take care of trivial matters in three buildings. At midnight, I opened the door.
There are three rules in the shop: first, don't ask where you came from; second, don't accept anyone alive; third, seal the cabinet at dawn. If you make a mistake, the store will randomly take away something from you - it depends on its mood.
The first night, a dripping woman came and put a lipstick on the counter: "It's not money. I treat it as my daughter's hand."
I reached out and touched her, and saw her last glance. A cyan number floated above the lipstick - that was the weight she couldn't let go.
Each transaction is accounted for forty-nine days. If it is delivered, the account will be written off; if it is not delivered, it will be deducted. What is downfall? The dumb uncle behind the counter only wrote five words: Don't ask, don't let it happen.
I came to redeem my father's life. But what this shop accepted were all the unfinished words of dead people.
They called it a late-night pawn shop.
The writing is average