Night Watch Office

My name is Meng Zixiao. My name was given to me by an old man working the night shift when I was sixteen years old. He squatted at the air outlet of the underground garage of Xin'an Building and handed me half a bottle of hot water. He said, "You squat here like a stone, and the wind cannot move you." I used this name for ten years, and at the age of twenty-six I became the night security guard in that building. The turning point came three months ago. There was a non-existent iron door at the corner of the eighth floor, and someone behind the door said "wait". I wrote this incident in my duty record, but it was crossed out with a ballpoint pen the next day. A piece of broken porcelain was stuffed into the crack of the iron door, with one word engraved on it - stay. On the third day, someone posted a note on the board: "Three to seventeen every night. Listen, don't talk." On the same day, I opened a lawyer's letter sent half a year ago. My dad passed away twenty years ago and left me an old store sandwiched between a funeral shop and a lock repair shop. The signboard read: Night Watch Office. The iron cabinets are filled with old files, and each bag contains a "person forgotten by the world." The latest bag contained only three lines: "She's back. She's back to me. Leave me alone. But the key has been handed over." A letter was slipped under the door. There was no signature, only one line: "Your mother is still alive." My dad has been looking for it for twenty years. The people behind the iron gate have been waiting for twenty years. Someone was watching through the gap behind the curtains on the first floor opposite. My mother's name is Jiang Lan, and things are always following her. My dad said that road was not enough. I am now standing in front of the iron door, with the key in my hand. The door opened, and there was another door behind it.