附近人100块钱上门

The hospital room was unusually silent.

Usually, her brother would gently wake her up around this time. She’d pretend to be asleep, playfully turning over to stay under the covers a bit longer. Eventually, he’d lift her, place her on the bathroom stool, and hand her a toothbrush already dabbed with toothpaste. Only then would she begrudgingly open her sleepy eyes and start brushing.

But things were different now…

Zheng Xiang Yue realized she had suddenly matured. The day her brother left this world was the day her childhood ended.

She found she could wake up on her own, organize her space meticulously, fold her clothes neatly, and even climb on a stool to clean the bathroom mirror until it sparkled.

“Brother! Look! I wiped it so clean…”

Time and again, Zheng Xiang Yue would turn around, astonished by her own capabilities, only to find no one to share her triumphs with.

Though she was adjusting to life without her brother, part of her still felt his presence, imagining him there like a comforting shadow.

But that comfort was a memory now.

“Because Xiang Yue has grown up,” she whispered to herself as she patted her cheeks in the mirror, setting her expression to one of resolve.

She took a towel, wrung it out, and carefully wiped her brother’s urn, which sat on the bedside table. This ritual had become part of her daily routine, mirroring the care her brother used to give her.

“I can’t wait to grow up,” she murmured, touching the urn, her gaze deepening with emotion. “In another 20 years… I’ll be an adult.”

After hanging the towel out to dry on the balcony, Zheng Xiang Yue checked her watch. It was time for the next part of her morning ritual. She picked up the remote and turned on the hospital room’s internet TV, tuning in to a live stream she had long bookmarked.

It was the SpaceX lunar travel press conference.

As the network signal buffered, Zheng Xiang Yue climbed back onto her bed, sitting cross-legged. She hugged her brother’s urn close, positioning it in front of her as if he could watch with her. This was something they had planned to do together.

Except, her brother had never consented to her wish for him to be buried on the moon. And now, that wish would remain unfulfilled.

The TV screen finally loaded, revealing the ongoing press conference. Elon Musk, standing center stage, was already deep into his speech:

“People’s longing and enthusiasm for lunar travel clearly exceed that for space travel! As of now… all 10 tickets for the lunar travel plan have been sold out! Let’s congratulate these 10 passengers, who will be the second group of travelers and pioneers in human history to land on the moon!”

He then read from a congratulatory card:

“First, the first lunar traveler! Congratulations to our old friend, who, after participating in SpaceX’s space travel program, has once again become our lunar travel plan’s first passenger—Larry Connor!”

The audience burst into applause, celebrating the American real estate tycoon’s upcoming journey. Meanwhile, Zheng Xiang Yue watched silently, her brother’s urn in her lap, feeling a mixture of sorrow and unspoken dreams.

….

Donghai City, Zhoupu Prison, Execution Room

Ji Xin Shui lay on the execution bed, bound yet peaceful, with a smile on his face and his eyes gently closed, as though he could already hear the warm applause of the Genius Club greeting him from beyond.

An incandescent lamp flooded the room with intense light, illuminating the scene of what was about to be a world-deceiving faked death—a ceremonious entrance into the ranks of the Genius Club.

“Ji Xin Shui,” a female police officer called out as she stood beside the execution bed, pen poised over the execution form. “Choose a song. This is your last right.”

In China, it was a tradition born from ancient rites of human compassion that a death row inmate could pick a song to play as their final background music. This modern adaptation aimed to lessen the emotional burden during the lethal injection process.

Typically, overwhelmed inmates defaulted to the first song on the playlist, a children’s song oddly titled “Don’t Look at Me, I’m Just a Sheep,” which had become an eerie staple in execution rooms across the country.

But today was different.

Ji Xin Shui pondered over his choice deeply, treating it as a sacred part of his rebirth into a new world.

“Then,” he finally said, his voice seasoned with age, “play ‘Ode to Joy’ for me.”

The request caused the two coroners and the officer to exchange surprised looks. This choice was unorthodox, to say the least, but undeniably poignant. Recognizing his right, the officer nodded in agreement, and soon, the rich strains of Beethoven’s symphony filled the room.

“Ode to Joy,” composed by Beethoven and inspired by Schiller’s poem, was a symbol of a bright, unified future for humanity, echoing through the cold walls of the execution chamber with its noble and exhilarating melody.

As the symphony reached its crescendo, Ji Xin Shui closed his eyes tighter, his face etched with a serene, almost reverent expression. The execution staff carefully inserted the IV needle into his vein.

Ji Xin Shui was calm, knowing the secret that others did not. The supposed lethal doses had been covertly replaced with saline, part of the elaborate ruse to fake his death.

The first dose, an anesthetic, began to work, coaxing him toward sleep as the triumphant music swelled around him. He smiled—a smile of someone who knew that when he next opened his eyes, it would be in the illustrious halls of the Genius Club, among legends like Copernicus.

The executioner initiated the sequence.

First dose administered…

Ji Xin Shui’s devout smile remained.

Second dose…

His smile persisted.

Third dose…

His smile still held firm.

After a short pause, a coroner stepped forward to check the vital signs monitor and nodded to confirm the completion of the procedure.

“It’s over,” he announced quietly.

The officer, maintaining her professional composure, handed over the confirmation form to be signed. “These devils who disregard human life truly deserve their fate,” she muttered under her breath, her voice tinged with a mix of duty and disdain.

The coroner, signing the form, responded with a heavy sigh, “Ah, who wouldn’t agree.”

As the symphony of “Ode to Joy” dwindled to a soft close, the room was left with the echo of its last notes, and Ji Xin Shui, still adorned with his peaceful smile, embarked on his journey to the afterlife.

….

Brooklyn, USA, Greenwood Cemetery

A tall, striking woman who could be mistaken for an action star from a Hollywood film stood solemnly in front of an upright tombstone. The tombstone was immaculately kept, with freshly engraved letters:

Ji Lin

2001–2023

Next to it, another tombstone lay flat on the ground, not yet raised. The engraving on it revealed another name:

Ji Xin Shui

1938–2023

With a soft snort, the woman addressed the tombstones, her voice tinged with frustration and sorrow.

“I told you both… you weren’t cut out for this perilous game of life and death. Couldn’t you have just settled for a normal life? What kept you so busy every day…”

She ran her fingers through her hair, letting it whip around her face in the breeze, her expression a mix of anger and wistfulness.

“You had it too easy, too peaceful from the start, and that’s why you took life for granted.” Her gaze dropped to Ji Xin Shui’s tombstone: “Old man, today marks your execution, doesn’t it? Soon, I’ll have to travel to China to retrieve your ashes… You two really knew how to stir up trouble.”

“Do you remember the day you found me amidst the war-torn ruins of the Middle East? The sky was ablaze, bombs had decimated everything. When you lifted me from the debris… my family was gone, reduced to nothing amidst the rubble.”

“The devastation was complete, bodies charred, unrecognizable. You called me a miracle, asked my name. I told you Angelica. You said it was fitting, like an angel, and then you took me in.”

“I’ve always been thankful… I planned to look after you as you aged. But I never imagined it would come to this. Old man… you’ve certainly made my life less burdensome. Just wait, in a few days, I’ll bring you back from China and lay you to rest next to Ji Lin.”

Angelica sighed deeply, then turned her attention to Ji Lin’s tombstone: “And you, little brother, it seems… you found yourself a decent friend?”

She let out a small chuckle, her tone lightening slightly as she contemplated the kind of person who would befriend someone as introverted as Ji Lin.

“Hehe, hard to believe someone would choose to be friends with someone as quiet as you.”

With one last look at the graves, Angelica brushed her wind-tossed hair back from her face, slid her hands into her coat pockets, and started walking toward the setting sun, her silhouette casting a long shadow.

“But if I get the chance, I’d like to meet him.”

….

Vroom!

A vibrant red McLaren zoomed around a curve on an overpass just outside the city, its rear tires screeching against the concrete. The tires left bold black streaks on the pavement and a trail of pungent white smoke in the air as the car accelerated away.

“Wow, Su Su!” The girl in the passenger seat cheered, clapping her hands enthusiastically. “That was amazing! Just like in ‘Initial D’!”

“Not good enough,” Su Su muttered, her brow furrowed as she pushed the car toward the next bend. “He could have hugged the curve tighter… I can’t afford to lose to him again.”

“Ah… that guy,” her friend said with a nervous laugh.

Ever since that race at the Tianma Circuit, Su Su had become obsessed with improving her driving skills, spending every possible moment behind the wheel, determined to outdo her rival just once.

“Have you seen the news, Su Su? Your blind date helped the Donghai City police crack a major case! They caught a whole gang of criminals!”

“You wouldn’t believe it; they’re praising him like he’s the modern-day Sherlock Holmes! And now, the authorities in Donghai are planning to honor him with a special ceremony and even give him an honorary title.”

Su Su popped another bubble with her gum and snorted dismissively. “He’s got some skills, I’ll give him that.”

“Exactly… And now he’s all over the radio, local news, and trending videos,” her friend added, flicking on the McLaren’s electronic radio to catch the latest updates on this new local hero.

….

Donghai City: A Ceremony and a Discovery

As the Donghai City authorities prepared for a commendation ceremony at the grand Donghai Hall, the announcement echoed through various media: “XXX will personally award Mr. Lin Xian the title of Brave Young Hero, one of Donghai’s Top Ten Citizens, along with certificates and bonuses…”

Amidst the buzz of celebration, Chu An Qing scrolled through videos on her phone, only to be interrupted as the electric door of her business car slid open, depositing her at the lakeside villa community. Lifting her gaze, she spotted Ji Lin’s villa encircled by police tape, with several large trucks and uniformed staff bustling around, evidently seizing assets.

Curiosity piqued, Chu slowly approached the scene.

“Hello,” she greeted a man clad in an enforcement bureau uniform, her voice tinged with concern. “What’s happening here?”

The man turned, recognition lighting his face as he saw Chu An Qing. “Miss Chu, we’re seizing Ji Lin’s assets. He’s been fined and must compensate for his actions. Since Ji Lin’s cash assets are limited domestically, we’re taking possession of his properties and collectibles.”

“I see,” Chu An Qing responded, her eyes tracking a staff member who emerged from the villa carrying a luxuriously framed picture. Her heart skipped a beat—the sketch within the frame was unmistakably from the photo taken on her birthday. Confusion clouded her thoughts. Lin Xian had claimed he never had time to draw it. Then who did?

“Excuse me… Could I take that picture?” Chu asked, pointing at the frame.

The staff member hesitated. “Miss An Qing, that might be difficult. All these items are scheduled for auction as per regulations. The frame itself is quite valuable…”

“Then, may I just have the drawing inside? It’s a personal piece, not a famous work. It wouldn’t fetch much at an auction. It’s just a sketch between friends,” An Qing pleaded, indicating the drawing of herself flashing a peace sign.

After a moment’s consideration, the staff member agreed, “Alright, the frame is valuable, but the sketch is yours if it holds sentimental value.” He carefully removed the drawing and handed it to her.

“Thank you!” Chu An Qing exclaimed, clutching the sketch as she walked to her own villa nearby. She spread the drawing on a table, examining it. “This is definitely Lin Xian’s work. No doubt about it.”

Inspired, she darted to her room, grabbed her watercolor paints, and began to lovingly apply color to the sketch, guided by the photo on her phone. Soon, a vibrant three-person portrait lay drying on the paper. Stepping back, she chuckled, “Lin Xian was right… sketch plus watercolor is indeed a mixed bag.”

Finding a frame upstairs, she mounted the painting and hung it on her bedroom wall. It looked quite impressive from a distance.

Her gaze then drifted to another framed sketch nearby—a birthday gift from Ji Lin. It depicted a girl with her hair tied up, eyes gleaming like crescent moons. An Qing knew Ji Lin had sneakily taken this from Lin Xian. Confirmation had come from Gao Yang, who affirmed no high school classmate of Lin Xian’s resembled her so closely.

Heart fluttering with a mixture of delight and embarrassment, Chu An Qing wondered about the timing of Lin Xian’s sketch. Had he drawn it after their first meeting at the MX party?

Her thoughts were interrupted as she pondered the recent sketch of Lin Xian, Ji Lin, and herself. Her father had mentioned Lin Xian turning off all surveillance during Ji Lin’s interrogation—no one knew what they discussed. But Lin Xian had emerged with a determined look, a sketch in hand, presumably this one.

“Did Lin Xian draw this in the moment to sway Ji Lin, or had it been prepared beforehand?” Chu An Qing mused, shaking her head. It was a puzzle.

But deep down, she preferred to believe that Lin Xian had planned it all along, a testament to their intertwined fates.

….

Shanxi, Suburban Low House

Liu Feng picked up the framed photo from the table. It captured a moment from his graduation day with Li Qi Qi; both were clad in their academic regalia, posing in front of the school library. This photo held the memory of their last day together.

He folded the frame’s stand and carefully placed it in his backpack along with other mementos from the table. Beside him, a suitcase stood ready. He scanned the room—once filled with life and laughter, it now lay bare, holding only the echoes of the past.

“I’m leaving, Qi Qi,” he murmured, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. He glanced around, each corner a stark reminder of the life they had shared.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out.

Walking down to the street, Liu Feng flagged down a taxi. The driver, noticing Liu Feng’s considerable luggage, eagerly popped the trunk and helped him load the heavy suitcase.

“Wow, that’s heavy… Where to, young man, with all this stuff?” the driver asked, slamming the trunk shut.

“To Donghai,” Liu Feng replied.

“Donghai, huh? That’s a fun place. Lots of things to do. Are you heading there alone… for a vacation?” the driver inquired, looking at Liu Feng through the rearview mirror.

“No,” Liu Feng shook his head, his gaze fixed outside the window. “I’m going to meet a friend, to do research.”

“Research?” The driver’s interest piqued, and he glanced back at Liu Feng. “Oh, I get it! You’re a scientist! What kind of science do you research?”

Liu Feng smiled wryly, “I’m not a scientist… just a student studying mathematics. I can’t claim to be a scientist. And… my research hasn’t been successful. It’s been disproven many times; no significant findings.”

The driver paused, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Then why keep researching if you keep getting it wrong? What’s the point of studying something that doesn’t work?”

“But my friend,” Liu Feng began, a thoughtful look crossing his face, “he said that in this world, in the universe, not everything is so absolute. Many things, even if proven wrong a thousand, ten thousand, or a billion times, don’t really matter; it’s about being right just once when it really counts.”

“Nonsense!” The driver laughed, dismissive yet curious. “What’s the point of being right only once? What can that one time achieve?”

Liu Feng looked up, his eyes reflecting the light of the rising sun.

“He said, maybe being right just once could save the entire world. I believe him…”

….

In the heart of the capital, a majestic, classical red building stood prominently. The main gate swung open as two guards snapped to attention, saluting the woman who strode through—Yellow Finch. Her piercing blue eyes fixed forward, she walked confidently across a courtyard brimming with flowers and into the opulent inner hall.

Inside, a reception room held several dignified figures, each representing a critical sector of national security and development. Chief Zhang, who led the group, rose with a welcoming smile and clapped his hands.

“Welcome, Ms. Yellow Finch, we’ve been eagerly anticipating your arrival,” he greeted, extending his hand. He gestured to his companions. “These are comrades from various departments—security, defense, aerospace… Ms. Yellow Finch, we are all profoundly grateful for the intelligence and information you’ve provided our country.”

He continued with enthusiasm, “Based on joint verification by our multiple departments, the confidential information you’ve provided is correct and crucial for our national security and development. So… today, we’ve gathered here to meet you, our selfless heroine.”

“You’re too kind,” Yellow Finch replied with a modest smile, her gaze sweeping the room. She acknowledged each official with a polite nod before returning her attention to Chief Zhang. “Chief Zhang, since the information I provided has proven to be correct and valuable… has the country considered my request?”

Chief Zhang’s expression turned contemplative as he sighed softly. “Ms. Huang, that’s precisely why we invited you here today. We recognize your merits and contributions, but… granting access to our nation’s untested, top-secret space shuttle is, frankly, not allowed in principle.”

Listening attentively, Yellow Finch’s smile didn’t waver as she responded, “Thank you, Chief Zhang.”

The room filled with puzzled glances. Why was she thanking him despite the refusal?

“In my years of experience, according to the art of China’s language,” Yellow Finch explained with a twinkle in her eye, “‘not allowed in principle’ means it’s possible; ‘allowed in principle’ means it’s truly impossible.”

Laughter erupted around the room, even Chief Zhang chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Indeed, Ms. Huang, you saw through our intentions. So I’ll be frank. I was hoping to negotiate, perhaps you could provide us with more valuable intelligence.”

“As for the space shuttle,” he added, “as you said, in principle, it’s not allowed, but to some extent, it can be negotiated. After all, test flights are inevitable. A few months earlier or later, as long as the preparations are adequate, what harm is there in adjusting the schedule slightly?”

An aerospace department official chimed in, “According to our plans, the space shuttle—comparable to the US X-37B—is scheduled for a test flight in December 2023. However, the intelligence Ms. Finch provided is strategically more valuable than this space shuttle in many aspects.”

“Indeed,” Chief Zhang affirmed, walking towards Yellow Finch with a confident stride. “We’ve discussed it. As long as your plan is under the supervision of China’s aerospace agency, launched at the Jiuyuan Satellite Launch Center, and follows the planned route, we see no major issue. We’ve built enough trust.”

“I just want to confirm… after this cooperation, will you continue to provide us with more important intelligence and information?” he inquired earnestly.

“Of course, Chief Zhang,” Yellow Finch nodded firmly. “I’m more than willing to offer more intelligence to the country. However, due to certain restrictions, I can’t disclose everything at once. But please trust me, after the space shuttle project, there will be more flexibility. By then, I can share more.”

“Flexibility?” Chief Zhang looked puzzled.

“Sorry, I might have used an inaccurate term,” Yellow Finch clarified, extending her hand. “What I mean is… by then, we can discuss more, broader cooperation.”

Smiles and nods filled the room. This meeting was not just to respond to Yellow Finch but to cement a partnership that had proven invaluable over the past six months. Though much of her help was on the surface level, it had significantly influenced national decision-making.

“Good, that’s wonderful,” Chief Zhang concluded, shaking Yellow Finch’s hand warmly. “Ms. Yellow Finch, thank you for your contribution to the nation. We hope our future journey will be as beautiful as your eyes—towards the stars and the sea!”

….

The gentle breeze rustled through the fields, stirring the young, vibrant green sprouts underfoot. Lin Xian walked solemnly, a bouquet of yellow and white chrysanthemums in his hands, heading towards a grave that lay ahead—the resting place of Tang Xin. The area around the grave had turned lush with verdant growth, a stark contrast to the somber reason for his visit.

Lin Xian knelt down, carefully placing the chrysanthemums on the grave. Uniquely, they weren’t wrapped in the traditional colored paper; instead, they were encased in a recent edition of the Donghai Daily. The newspaper was open to a headline that detailed the final report on the infamous 00:42 serial murder case, including information about Ji Xin Shui’s trial and execution, as well as the deaths of Ji Lin and Zhou Duan Yun. On the back page was news of Lin Xian’s own commendation and the upcoming award ceremony. This was the gift Lin Xian had promised to bring to Tang Xin.

As another breeze swept across the field, the chrysanthemums nestled in the newspaper seemed to nod, as if acknowledging the weight of the stories they were wrapped in.

“Tang Xin,” Lin Xian murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. He paused, unsure of what more to say, his eyes scanning the familiar grave site.

He began to squat down, his hands carefully removing trash and plastic bags that had blown onto the grave. “The seven sins have been dealt with. But… it seems the real mastermind might still be out there.”

“What exactly is the Genius Club? Who is Copernicus?” Lin Xian pondered aloud, recalling Ji Xin Shui’s mania and fervor during the interrogation. “I don’t understand it all, but I know I need to find out.”

“I’m not sure if they’re right or wrong, just or evil; but whatever the case… I need to see for myself. I need to join them to understand the truth.”

After tidying the grave, Lin Xian stood, stretching his limbs as he prepared to leave. “I must become stronger. Only then will I have the strength to confront these powerful adversaries. The world has suffered enough because of the Genius Club.”

With a determined gaze, he looked up at the sun. “I’m involved in this now, and I won’t back down. So… bring it on!”

Turning away from the grave, Lin Xian began his walk back to the road, his footsteps pressing into the greenery. Behind him, the white chrysanthemums swayed in the wind—waving farewell, or perhaps blessing his resolve.

….

Donghai University’s Affiliated Hospital, Zheng Xiang Yue’s Room

Zheng Xiang Yue sat cross-legged on her hospital bed, clutching the urn of her brother, Zheng Cheng He, as she watched a live broadcast on TV. Her eyes were fixed on the screen where Elon Musk stood at the center of the stage, his voice booming through the speakers:

“The ninth ticket to the moon,” he paused dramatically before announcing, “belongs to the 2020 Nobel Prize in Physics winner! The great scientist who proposed the famous ‘Cosmic Audit Hypothesis’—Roger Penrose!”

The audience erupted into thunderous applause. Roger Penrose, a titan in the field of physics, had unexpectedly secured a ticket for the lunar trip.

As applause thundered from the TV, Zheng Xiang Yue’s grip on the urn tightened, her emotions bubbling to the surface. She bit her lip hard to stifle the sobs, but tears began to fall uncontrollably onto the urn.

Lowering her head, she whispered to the urn, her voice choked with emotion, “Brother… I really want to go to the moon too…”

She had always dreamed of burying her brother on the moon, joining their parents who were already there. The moon seemed an unreachable 380,000 kilometers away—a distance she could hardly imagine traveling. Yet, the desire to bridge that vast expanse overwhelmed her.

Just then, a nurse burst into the room, breaking her reverie.

“Xiang Yue! Time for your regular check-up!” the nurse announced, holding a check-up form.

Snapping back to reality, Zheng Xiang Yue quickly wiped away her tears, cleaned the urn with her sleeve, and hopped off the bed. “Oh, oh! Coming!” she replied hastily, trying to compose herself as she followed the nurse.

As the hospital room door closed behind her with a soft bang, the television continued to blare. The smiling black-and-white photo of Zheng Cheng He on the urn seemed to watch the screen where Elon Musk was gearing up for another announcement.

“Next up! Our SpaceX company’s final lunar traveler!” Musk scanned the crowd and the cameras, his voice filled with excitement. “This ticket is different from the others; an anonymous buyer paid the full price of 12 million dollars! Then gave this precious opportunity to travel to the moon… to a 14-year-old girl!”

The audience gasped and then cheered, moved by the generosity of the gesture.

“Truly a lucky girl, a romantic gift! As my favorite sci-fi book says… at this moment, she surpasses all living girls and dead princesses on Earth!”

Elon Musk raised the microphone high, his enthusiasm palpable as he read the final name from the congratulatory card.

“Let’s congratulate her!” he exclaimed. “The 10th traveler to the moon in the SpaceX lunar travel plan!”

“She is the 14-year-old girl from China—Zheng Xiang Yue!”

….

To be continued…