Seven people went down the well and six people came up. I am the seventh.
I lived under someone else's job badge for fourteen years.
People without contracts will not be issued work cards. There was a piece pressed into the soil, I picked it up and called out the name.
From that day on I was Zhou Liben. Work, pay social security, and send money to a tofu stall in the west of the city every month.
For the past fourteen years, the first thing I did every day when I went to work was to turn over my work badge and hang it up. The name is facing inside.
Someone asked me why. I said the photo didn't look good.
I went to six departments and asked them to open that well. Six times, they all said the same thing: You first prove who you are.
Fourteen years later, the city bureau will inspect the well and recruit someone who knows the construction site. I went and used the name Zhou Liben.
The first case they wanted to investigate was the well—in that case, I was the one who died.
I have no system, no powers, only the five steps I learned on the construction site: count the number of pieces, look at the source, look at the traces, look at the location, and look at the missing items.
Later, these five steps were copied into the case handling process.
And the portrait of the suspect they put together using these five steps was exactly the same as mine.
