Valve

Lin Xing squatted in front of the cement slab in front of the building and looked at the six water pipes. The water valve he has turned off for three years is number 7758, the one on the far right. But at this moment, the sign 7758 is lying under the second water pipe, and 7778 is hanging on the far right. He turned the valve that had been closed for three years. On the phone, Ping Xi said: "The water is gone." But that's not their valve. The water company said: Turning off the wrong valve will not affect your home. But it happened. Every time for three years. What makes him even more uneasy is that since then, some minor deviations have begun to emerge: Ping Xi's taste has changed, the color of the refrigerator magnet has changed, and an identical old key has appeared in the drawer. Every one of them is insignificant, and every one of them can be explained by "misremembering". But he wasn't sure anymore. If a person's perception is slightly off every day for three years, is he still convinced that he is living in the same world? This is a story about a middle-aged piano teacher. About a bankrupt music store, an unpaid loan, a sheep tied up in a back alley, and a woman who calls the smell of oil smoke "fragrant". It's also a story about a water valve - it controls the flow of water and, perhaps, something else.