Pair (Part 2)

six

I found a boat launch near Dafeng, used Wechat to confirm a few words with the person, and then jumped back into the car. Fortunately, there were no roadblocks along the way, as the police liked to look for food at this time. My second-hand BMW dragged a very drunk Benny to the last show of the night at a speed of 130 kilometers per hour.

Maybe he was tired of wearing his sunglasses, so Benny finally took them off. For the first time, his eyes, which had been suspended for a long time, were coldly watching with an unobstructed view of the road ahead.

"Really? Are you drunk? Are you not very good at playing?" I switched the music to Lin Qiang's "Millennium Mambo" and liked it. Radiohead's music comes after.

"No, I'm just a little tired...I just felt tired from playing cards." He quibbled, and the music didn't seem to arouse his interest.

"Really? Real or fake? Don't run away again later." I imitated my lazy Taiwanese accent.

Standing outside the door of the first-floor shop, I waved to the camera above my head. The iron gate clicked, and Benny staggered after me. There was a rather unpleasant smell in the air, like the pungent perfume from a wet market and the air freshener in the dim hall. First of all, it spread out in front of my eyes like a painting with legs spread open. In order to cover up the erotic collision in the cubicle, Millennium Chinese pop hits of moderate volume were played in the room.

It doesn’t fucking snow in tropical countries. Dao Lang’s “The First Snow in 2002” is not only inappropriate for listening to the scene, but also not hard-core. At the counter in front, an old man in his fifties with acne scars on his face smiled silly at me and Benny.

"Boss, did you just call via WeChat?"

"yes."

"Come on, take a seat first."

After that, the uncle pointed to a fake leather sofa next to the entrance, motioned for us to sit down and wait for a while, and then went to the small room alone.

"Hunter S. Thompson, just left." Benny pinched the root of his nose with his index finger and thumb, and spoke out the words slowly.

"ah?"

"Sunglasses." He didn't look at me and suddenly focused his gaze on a bright red statue of Guan Gong in front of him who was always selfless and upright.

"Why are you wet? Didn't you leave your sunglasses in the car?" Benny started talking about these two unrelated things. For a moment, I didn't have time to take care of it, because the guy was wearing flip-flops and pants. The old man with acne scars that reached above his knees had walked out of the small room. Behind him were seven women wearing high heels, two or three of whom were still cursing and adjusting their bra straps. This situation resembles that of the unwilling and down-and-out tribute payers in Majapahit's time. Okay, this is what I said.

Not all places have a glass mirror to satisfy the divers’ ritual imagination. If you want to see how beautiful abalone is, you must first ask yourself how thick the leather bag can be, not the foreskin.

"How about it? You go first, I'll open the abalone first."

Benny and I looked at each other. His long-lost, slightly cynical single eyelids, he touched his chin without any stubble as if drunkenly. He looked left and right, and finally his eyes fell on No. 13. The plump woman with a not-so-pretty face and a white suit was overjoyed and pulled Benny into a row of cubicles on the left.

I had already settled on size 16, a woman who was half a head taller than me, with a model figure, and a face that was also not that great, but I didn’t care. A woman who is not beautiful will work hard to display her talents all her life in order to retain divers. She shakes and shakes. What I like is this kind of quality. If she doesn't shake, she won't be able to reach Grandma Bridge.

As for the remaining five women, because they could not receive the guests, they could only be driven back to the room by the uncle in a daze. I secretly rejoiced, would Benny get a red envelope for that bottle of water?

"Brother, did you just come here after drinking?" The woman with a model figure must have smelled the smell of alcohol and asked coquettishly.

"How about some tea?"

"Isn't it going to be hard to come out later? You need to give me more money." She giggled, holding a towel and calling me to take a shower first. I guess she is Vietnamese, she is fair and fair, I don’t know if she has shaved hair down there. I saw Benny outside the simple shower room. He was shirtless, with a towel wrapped around his lower body, and his body was clean. Finally, he has done something, and tonight he will give his master a blessed body. I wanted to step forward and pat him on the shoulder and contribute some applicable advice and guidance for experienced drivers.

But Benny was always lying in front of the washbasin, leaving the faucet on and letting it leak. He just kept taking the water with his hands to wipe and rub his face, as if he wanted to wipe away all his facial features. From his expression, I read some restlessness beyond the end of desire. It was not the kind of hazy restlessness with a youthful atmosphere, but contained a crisis related to the loss of personal beliefs. The face lacks elongation, and I cannot use words to carve out this rock-like surface.

As I lay on the bed, Benny's textbook-level and very unfamiliar poker face suddenly came to mind when he was playing cards. Moreover, there is an oval electronic clock hanging on the wall opposite the bed. Use numbers to describe the passage of time, which contains a reminder that time is urgent and you need to do something quickly. Just looking at it makes you feel stressed and unable to stand up.

I stopped the Vietnamese woman and told her to take down the oval electronic clock.

"No, I won't put it back on later, I will be scolded." She acted coquettishly while undressing herself, her left breast hanging down, it looked real, and she didn't know how it would feel when she held it. .

I simply turned my head over and buried my body deeply into the soft bed. He leaned against her and waited for her to do it from behind.

"Little brother, where are you from?" A woman's voice came faintly from the next room.

"..." Benny's wordless reply floated in this hidden space on the poverty line. That water is really good at playing, and he actually chose a Chinese girl. I can't help but look forward to the way Benny will talk to his comrades. It is not only a profound and simple explanation of physical thorns, but also a push-back discussion by one country and one country, and the most sincere and moist defense between individuals. I listened intently to what was going on in the next room, and a pair of slightly rough hands slipped between my legs as if they were not following the rules. I don’t resist, I don’t resist anything, I just need to naturally raise my buttocks slightly to cooperate.

"Little brother, where are you from?" The woman next door persisted. The Vietnamese woman's pair of C breasts pressed against my eyes made it dark.

"Where are you from?" Benny finally spoke.

"Harbin!" The woman waited for the reply and shouted excitedly.

"Oh... they're Chinese." Benny felt like he was lazy and just responded casually, as if he accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

"What? Can you afford a Japanese girl?" Harbin is not only cold, but also the aura of women is so hard. The Vietnamese woman lay on top of me, babbling and performing hard. I was like a piston riser, twitching blindly forward and left and right. The girl next door yelled like this. Not only did it sound funny, it also helped delay ejaculation.

The Vietnamese woman continued to make sounds on top of me, like a broken cassette tape, or an actor who was acting too hard. The electronic clock on the wall looked annoying. But the sound next door seemed to have stopped, replaced by the cold ringtone of the mobile phone. After reaching the troposphere of desire four or five times, someone caught it. This caused the man in the cubicle opposite to complain loudly:

"Hey, is it so noisy over here?"

"It's okay, it's okay." A woman's voice that sounded sexy came from above the cubicle.

When I walked out of the small room, Benny was standing in front of the counter and spontaneously pulled out a few blue bills from his wallet. When he turned to look at me, I gestured to him with great joy like the Amitabha Buddha and clasped hands, and then I sat down alone on the fake leather sofa to rest and drink some hot Chinese tea served by the Vietnamese woman. I gave her butt an extra squeeze as she left. She pushed insincerely and walked back to the small room without looking back.

After Benny paid the money, he pressed his lips together, said "I" to me, and then nodded slightly in the direction of the iron gate, signaling to leave. After having sex, my whole spirit changed. With strange joy and a peaceful mood after the sex, I followed him out of the shop without any regrets.

He turned his back to me and lit a cigarette, and did not offer me one.

"Hey, how much does your cheapest coffin cost?" Benny blew out the cigarette on the ground and asked solemnly.

"Mo? Who do you want to buy it for?" I was confused, and then I gestured to him to bring him the cigarettes.

seven

Before noon on the fourth day of the Lunar New Year, I carried Benny and dragged him north for nearly 400 kilometers with a very strange mood. Every time I go north, I always climb to Genting to test drive and play a few games. Unexpectedly, this time I have to rush to the morgue, and it is also during the Lunar New Year.

Benny barely said a word the whole way, and he only gave me a general idea. Benny was lying on the passenger seat as silently as a dead person, and the dazzling sunlight struggled to penetrate the heat insulation film that I had illegally thickened. Since the temperature inside the car stays the same for a long time, I have to pull down the windows every half hour. I needed some ventilation and a change of breath, and I also hoped that this gloomy and unclear impression would dissipate with the wind.

Like bacteria in a vacuum tube, the wind blew Benny's long hair here and there, like long hair that had been refused entry by gravity, constantly fluttering. The sunglasses stuck to the bridge of Benny's nose made me confused again. After all, I couldn't tell whether the person under my eyes was sad for the loss of his father, or whether he was simply exhausted in terms of physical output, especially the lower body.

Before arriving, Benny was still silent, unable to feel the slightest rise and fall in his chest. I secretly put my finger towards his nostril, and he indifferently and swiftly extended his middle finger to me.

"Damn, you just lost your virginity last night, don't die in my car." I pretended to curse, testing my reaction.

Benny still didn't say anything, nor did he defend his chastity. He just shook his head slightly, trying to return to reality from the dream. In the huge outdoor parking lot of the Central Hospital, our car was parked in front of a tree. He and I secretly sat in the car and smoked. The two people who lost verbal communication could only stare blankly at the leafy tree in front of them.

Suddenly there was some noise and shaking from the big tree, and then four or five crows sprang out from it, making sharp and heavy babble sounds, and disappeared from sight in front of us. One flew towards the dim sunset without hesitation.

"How do you think he died?" He exhaled a puff of smoke and finally spoke.

"Oh, was it a car accident? His head flew off?" I tried to imagine how he died.

"I hope, looking at his bad face, it's also very sad." Benny seemed to be holding back something, but his words were not tolerant, and the crow was nowhere to be seen.

"Then, do you know who is calling you?" I threw the cigarette butt out of the car window and asked.

Benny shrugged at me and became bold as I threw the cigarette butt out the car window.

The morgue is located on the first floor of the Central Hospital, in an unfortunate and gloomy basement. There are six heavy doors on the left and right sides of the elevator. There are no windows to the outside and no reproduction paintings depicting Malay scenery. The doors looked the same, and there were no numbers on them. Maybe all the symbols are insignificant and dispensable in this space that welcomes the dead. People who are still alive don't have to worry too much about it. If you look at one more set of symbols, you will have one more set of inspirations to buy 10,000 words. It is like sending money to Vincent Tan.

Outside the last door at the end of the corridor on the left, stood a man who also wore sunglasses and looked as young as us. As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I spotted him. Benny stood side by side with me outside the elevator and looked around. He dialed the phone but did not put the phone close to his ear. After a beep, there was a sound from the end on the left, almost simultaneously, a chilling sound.

"Is it him? You said he was the one who called you?"

I hurriedly asked Benny twice in a low voice. I wanted to leave this place as soon as possible. Even if I am a second-generation coffin man, I may not have a natural affinity for this kind of place. I never come here. These damn places. Seeing that the situation has become so obvious, there is nothing to doubt. It must be him who called Benny. The young man at the end also looked at us with understanding.

Benny was the only one who couldn't accept the first round of torture of this reality. He stared at his cell phone motionlessly, letting the ringtone of his cell phone echo in the corridor where there were more dead people than living people. Before the torture methods were used to extract confessions, Benny showed a cowardly look of wanting to disarm.

The man at the end hung up the phone first, seeming to be frivolous and impatient. This action made me conclude that the other party must be about the same age as us. So, I forced Benny to walk to the left. Only in this way can I confirm the origin of the other party, how Benny's father died suddenly, and why it was him who called Benny. Aaron from Kuala Lumpur wouldn't be so aggressive, would he? Even the morgue? Can you get money?

The man wore a flat hat and a pair of serious sunglasses, but they looked much more expensive than Benny's, like Ic! Berlin. The two men were standing on both sides of the wall with their heads lowered. Standing in the middle, I could only keep going back and forth between the two of them, like an arbitrator who came on stage when he was confused about the situation, but neither of them was interested. Be willing to confess.

"So, it was you who called him? Why do you have his number? Then, how did his father die? Let's talk about it first... You don't need any money. We won't give you a cent. " During this period, I didn't see the hospital or anyone else passing by, so I pointed out the matters that Benny didn't want to ask.

"Well, I called him. I found the number from my dad's cell phone. He burned charcoal and died in the car around 8:30 last night." The young man's head was lowered, like a thoughtful Hogg. It was like a Watts sorting hat, and the sound seemed to come out of the flat hat. He said calmly as he kept rubbing his right foot back and forth on the ground, making an unpleasant and harsh squeaking sound, as if he was trying to wipe away the dog poop stuck to his feet.

"Your dad?" Benny felt as if his back was electrocuted. He instantly raised his body and took off his sunglasses without making any sound. Instead, it was me who spoke for Benny like a voice actor. He was speechless, and I was so frightened that I...confirmed again in embarrassment. The young man who was originally indifferent and stood leaning against the wall finally had a smile on his face after the two of us exclaimed in unison. The person in front of me is actually Benny’s father’s illegitimate son who lives in Kuala Lumpur? And his father finally fulfilled his promise and took his own life by burning charcoal.

The discovery of an illegitimate child was not the most surprising to me. When the rectangular strip of tube light illuminated the man's slowly emerging face, it was a face that was both familiar and frightening to me, and I couldn't help but feel violently dizzy. The feeling of nausea suddenly swelled and fermented in my stomach, making me really sick and vomited between the two of them.

I couldn't believe that except for his temporarily hidden eyes, the man's body shape and voice were exactly the same as Benny's. When I focused my eyes on him again in disbelief, I gagged violently again.

They just looked at me, just looked at me. My eyes must have been very red, I felt dizzy.

I have never heard Benny or his mother mention that he might have a twin brother in Kuala Lumpur? I stood between the two of them, my stomach tightening and twitching, churning constantly, I was almost desperate He checked these two faces over and over again, eagerly searching for any clues that could distinguish them.

All attempts were in vain. Apart from their external hairstyles and clothes, their body shapes and heights were like a set of wax products based on a set of molds. I couldn't identify, let alone convince myself to accept, the reality before me. Twins, do they even have the same voice?

Something is missing, what it is, my head is so swollen that it gives me a splitting headache. I bent down slightly and put my hands on my knees. On the one hand, I prevented myself from gagging again, and on the other hand, I tried to spy on them from the upward posture. From their expressions, I captured the same confusion and embarrassment that was the same as mine. They were laid out one by one and hidden under their single eyelids as if they were about to fall asleep. They must be like me, they didn't know about each other's existence until the fourth day of the Lunar New Year. This was a huge relief to me. But from a selfish perspective, I was probably one of the people being tortured.

I tried to cheer up, raised my body again, and took a good look at the two people in front of me who might be twins. It can be seen from this that everything in front of me is not due to my personal illusion. Benny is definitely not a Snape. He didn't violently cast any magic on me. The Sorting Hat is fictional, but the man in front of me is not.

However, Benny and Benny's fake, or man and man's fake are not ready to speak yet. Benny stared as wide as he could. If a pair of human eyes has the physical power to bite and devour everything, then the confrontation between Benny and the man is undoubtedly like a silent fight and gnawing, which contains a strong will that only one of them can walk out of the morgue. I always believe that Benny doesn't want to come to this point. As long as the man's sunglasses are not taken off, there is room for the coincidence between the two to change slightly, even if they are leaning on the edge of a cliff with half of their feet already hanging in the air.

I still stood dumbfounded between the two, quietly witnessing this trapped beast fight without an audience. The reality of suddenly being far and suddenly affecting my judgment. I can't arbitrate, just witnessing it is enough to give me gastroesophageal reflux again. I must be the one being tortured, I am sure again. Between the two of them, I acquiesced to a feeling of hatred. The hatred that lay deep in my heart quietly crept up into my heart.

It wasn't until an elderly Malay couple, eyes red from crying, walked out of the door beside them that the three of us restrained ourselves from this barbaric and ridiculous silent killing. A Malay man in a nurse's uniform led a tired, elderly Malay couple to the elevator and motioned the three of us to wait a moment.

"How old are you? I'm twenty-three." The young man wearing a hat didn't seem panicked in his tone, but had a silky and steady tone. The man couldn't wait for a reply. He easily pulled his back off the wall, as if accepting his fate, and calmly but perversely opened his sunglasses, which was a bit provocative. This move undoubtedly shattered Benny and I's horizons, and also crushed our last hope.

Hidden under the sunglasses is indeed a pair of single eyelids.

Benny let out a long sigh and looked up to the sky anxiously, looking for something. Is there anything nice about the ceiling? Jesus, Allah, Confucius, or Guan Gong, whoever can solve the mystery for me, I will believe in him, and I will also take Benny with me, so that he will always be my subordinate even with his faith.

As the reality became clearer, Benny remained silent, not even trying to balance his thoughts to accept this absurd manifestation of fate, which caused my hatred to gradually sublimate into absolute jealousy. Benny finally had the opportunity to face his fate in his life, and thus had the perfect opportunity to freely dialectize Nietzsche and counterattack his thoughts. And I searched and searched, but never saw such an absolutely ridiculous life scene, and of course I felt hatred born from it.

After all, facing Aaron's overly pediatric and realistic problems would hinder my ability to observe and observe how Benny responds, mediates with him, and survives from desperate situations. So...I'm very thankful for the possible fact that the man is not Aaron, but the Benny twins. In addition, even if they have the same father and mother, or the same mother ship. Regardless of whether it is spiritual or practical, this indescribable dramatic tension remains unchanged.

Benny was probably not just a monkey at the poker table, but his whole life. But a monkey that can type the complete works of Shakespeare? Isn't it quite mythical? (Probably the same for the monkey community as for people, if monkeys would know.)

Yes, I was jealous of what Benny had to deal with. If he is unlucky in this life, it would not be so bad to be a bystander who occasionally intervenes and pushes him forward at the right time. I tried to change my stance and settle for the next best thing. I couldn’t wait to walk up to Benny, patted his shoulder gently, and said to Benny Fake:

"The three of us are the same age, so you don't have to ask him anymore, I'll answer it. Anyway, you're not Aaron,"

"Oh, okay, let me answer that. Anyway, you can call me Johnny." The man calmed down his mood quickly and imitated my statement, as if he was no longer entangled in the reality in front of him. After briefly introducing himself, he turned towards us.

"Oh... call me Benson, and then, he is Benny, maybe your brother or your younger brother. Otherwise... you guys give me a hug." I didn't shake his hand, only representing Benny and He struck up a conversation. By the way, trying to get the two of them to recognize each other seems to be a good thing, so why not do it.

The two men stared at me at the same time, which made me shrink back. A Malay man dressed in a white nurse's outfit walked over and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Benny and Johnny. We have seen all kinds of miserable deaths, so two people who look the same mean nothing.

I envy Benny and look forward to the torture of my own life.

eight

Benny and Johnny's dad was still lying in the morgue. The three of us had not made a decision before three o'clock that day, and we were still far away from the so-called conclusion. At least Benny and I were almost exhausted just digesting the fact that we speculated about the other twin brother. As for how to deal with the aftermath of their father's death, I, an outsider, can't say anything more for the time being.

Johnny deliberately avoided directly dealing with the aftermath of his father's death. As if he had expected it in advance, he forcefully sold a three-star hotel in Pudu district and said he would make an appointment to discuss it in detail tonight because Now I have to go somewhere else if I have something to do. The hotel money has been paid in advance. After Johnny passed us the address, he hurriedly left the morgue.

Benny didn't answer, nor did he ask to go inside to see his father one last time. We didn’t meet much while we were alive, and it’s best not to have any after death. And even if the person dies, a man named Johnny has run away now? Fuck your mother?

It was rare that Benny finally said more than one sentence. I did not stop this venting, and even the swear words did not remind me to switch to the Cantonese mode in the capital. He's already hit hard, and I don't want to add icing on the cake just yet. After we returned to the car and shared our last cigarettes, we headed all the way back to the three-star hotel where Johnny had paid to catch up on some sleep.

It wasn't until about 8:30 that night, after Benny and I had a simple dinner, that we slowly drove to the designated meeting place.

He and I sat under a banyan tree that (according to the aunt who sold herbal tea) was nearly a century old, with a simple red plastic table, drinking Kuala Lumpur's special herbal tea while waiting for Johnny to arrive. During this period, many women in colorful clothes passed by, and there were also many men, scattered from all around, walking towards a large nightclub opposite the banyan tree, like groups of devout pilgrims, carrying money and swollen desires, or lying down. Or stand, longing for absolution from the goddess Aphrodite. I looked endlessly at the flashing neon lights of the nightclub and felt something waving to me.

There must be something in it that JB didn't have, something that gave me an adrenaline rush, so I drank the bitter herbal tea down quickly. Benny didn't drink a sip and smoked with his back to me. Such a fatal double blow must be very difficult to swallow. He stared straight at the thick and fat trunk of the banyan tree. Was he thinking about something? Or did the thick and fat trunk remind him of the plump Harbin woman yesterday? In order to calm down the fire of desire, I had to drink Benny's cup of herbal tea. Anyway, I paid for the herbal tea.

It can be said that there are no survivors of the tardiness germ in this part of the Malay Peninsula. Who has the best sense of time? Probably neither me nor Johnny and Benny. I think of women in goldfish bowls, women in Harbin, and Vietnamese women with C breasts. They may be the ones with the most sense of time. Each dive is based on sixty minutes. If you take less time to say thank you, if you take more time, please pay more. Johnny was nearly an hour late from the agreed time, I had already drank four cups of herbal tea, and Benny had smoked nearly half a pack of cigarettes.

"Hey, it's hard to park nearby, sorry." Johnny pulled up the plastic chair and said sorry sincerely with a straight face. While stroking his shiny American-style short hair, he didn't even bother to act like he shrugged his shoulders or spread his hands to signal. Only a ghost would believe it. But to me, it seems a little more convincing.

"Do you mind?" He immediately put down a keychain with an Audi shape on it, completely forgetting the fact that we had been waiting for sixty minutes, and started smoking a cigarette on the table.

"You didn't take it." I said grandly, even though the pack of cigarettes didn't belong to me.

Johnny lit up the cigarette calmly and said nothing. He pointed at the screen of his mobile phone at us with his index finger, then put his hands on the table, his face close to the screen, and he was busy contacting someone. I noticed that Johnny was using a BlackBerry, the kind with a keyboard. He typed the plastic keyboard skillfully, making subtle clicking sounds constantly, looking like a little adult who had lost his adolescence. Johnny's conceited sophistication can't help but make me a little envious.

When the cigarette was almost finished, he subconsciously clicked his tongue in disgust, stuffed the phone back into his trouser pocket, and motioned for us to leave with him.

"Ah? Where are we going again? Can't we talk here?" I was a little impatient and my butt was still stuck to the chair. Benny looked at Snape, who didn't take any action, as if he had lost his magic, and had a dull look on his face.

"It's hard to talk here. It's just on the opposite side. I've reserved the box, but you can stay here if you want." Johnny was extremely calm and almost sat back on the chair.

"Really? What do you want? Can you please?" I pretended to be Guhan (really Guhan), and like Cao Cao, I visited the thatched cottage three times and asked Johnny three times to test Johnny's sincerity.

"Isn't the money for the room the same? Let's go." He seemed to know me quite well and easily read my mysterious voice. Although they are most likely twins, Johnny's brighter character is indeed thicker and more natural and friendly than Benny. I gradually learned the rules in this aspect.

I have been dragging Benny with me all my life, and that night under the banyan tree was no exception. Besides, I also wanted to see what was different about the box in Kuala Lumpur. Johnny skipped past the guard wearing a dark brown short-sleeved shirt outside the gate as if he were on a familiar road. After a few words with the lady at the counter, he was led to a private room by a woman with heavy makeup and a smile.

"Hi! Johnny, do you want someone to accompany you?" the woman asked enthusiastically, and I prayed that he would say yes.

"Not yet, wait until we finish talking." After Johnny handed the woman a blue note, she closed the door sensibly. This again left me slightly disappointed.

Benny was eating the fruit platter on the table alone, waiting silently for me to take charge. Before we set off from the hotel, Benny had made it clear that he was counting on me to handle this matter for him, and besides, I'm a second-generation coffin guy. I looked at the two astringent wines that had been placed on the table in advance, red label or blue label, and I didn't know which one was better. Maybe after a few sips and a kick, it might be easier to talk. It doesn't matter how I handle it. I just make a phone call to my cousin who is traveling in Kuala Lumpur and the mess can be done. Benny still had a straight face and an attitude that it had nothing to do with him. Could it be that he wanted to completely give up his responsibility and let Johnny shoulder it? Really useless.

Johnny took the lead. He opened the red label, poured wine for us, and said straight to the point:

"I've been in a downturn in my career recently and my money is a little tight. I know Benny that you are also my father's son. I hope you can help me pay it first. I will pay you back in two weeks, plus 10% interest."

"You're too lazy to pay? Where do you want me to find the money?" Benny couldn't hold back his emotions, and as expected, he still opened the skylight and said dirty words.

"What's the downturn? Are you playing stocks or poker? Don't be pretentious and lazy." My tone was full of contempt, but I was still looking forward to it from the bottom of my heart. Of course, morally, we still have to hypocritically agree with Benny.

"Both stocks and poker. You can find information about Poker online. I am ranked in Malaysia."

Johnny on the rock didn’t even mix soda and green tea. He toasted silently and then turned to me. The big screen was on, and the blaring music was turned off at the right time by Johnny. The low-saturation silence temporarily made Benny feel at a loss as to what to do, and he was on pins and needles.

"Really? Don't play with me. Let's try it. Why do we have to pay first? Let's be clear. Benny has been lying in the air-conditioned room for an extra day. It's very cold!"

I couldn't contain my excitement, especially when he revealed that he was a Texas Hold'em player. I added fuel to the fire and encouraged Johnny to speak more. Once again I crossed the line of spectator and made the decision for Benny and Benny.

I deliberately pulled the hem of my clothes to reveal half of my Gucci brand-name belt, and at the same time, I put the BMW car keys stuffed in my trouser pocket and pretended to put them on the table casually. Johnny did notice, and I noticed his restraint from giving me a disdainful snort. He took it very well and didn't embarrass me. A second-hand BMW car key, you can tell at a glance that it is useless for cheering and practicing.

But I also feel relieved that I tried this. I finally took an important step.

Johnny climbed up to the rock alone. After toasting alone, he frowned slightly, put his hand on the person thoughtfully, and then slowly lowered it. He has the same face as Benny, and even his movements are somewhat similar, a bit sloppy. I try to continue to grasp and sort out these subtle differences. In any case, the experience hidden behind Johnny's face does appear to be a bit more generous than Benny, malleable, experienced in the world but not behind the sophistication of the proud spirit.

"Benny, you also know what kind of person our dad is. I am shouldering all his debts. I don't know how many groups of Aarons JB owes. But I am settling everything here. .

As he spoke, he lifted up his shirt, revealing that his upper body was covered with dozens of large and small scars. There is also a clearly identifiable centipede scar with a severed leg, about seven centimeters long, above the navel. Although the time we spent together did not exceed twenty-four hours, I was very sure that Johnny was not deliberately showing off, especially about the painful experiences in his past life.

He didn't dodge, there was no pretense or bravado. In addition, I personally can definitely give full understanding;

There are many obstacles in Johnny's life, and he has to deal with them carefully. Hiding himself skillfully when facing danger may seem a bit sinister and cunning, but without these qualities and awareness, how can he protect himself? How to walk out barefoot from the burning violence without leaving any trace? His unabashed self-revelation is worth a thousand words. Johnny's face is also calm and composed after rising from the ashes. What is implicit in it is probably just that he hopes that we can have a minimum understanding of what he has experienced.

He is not afraid of comparison, nor is he afraid of facing his fate.

Johnny's behavior was nothing more than that, and he didn't ask for cheap sympathy from us. He cast a firm and sincere look on another face with the same appearance, but Benny avoided it for the time being.

And I also know that Benny does not have these scars on his body, and of course he does not have the corresponding qualities. I can't blame him yet. Was it Johnny who took the beating on his behalf? Or was their father, who had no choice but to retreat, feeling uncertain about his so-called fate and simply pushing his own flesh and blood to the edge of gambling? What about his father's feelings for Benny? With what kind of emotion did he spare the last blow in the fistfight again and again without leaving an indelible scar on Benny? Why did Johnny have to pay for it again and endure it without objection? All this? Benny went from disbelief to staring at his abdomen unscrupulously for a long time, his face still deeply hidden in the two long hairs. He hesitated for a moment, and kept rubbing his hands together before taking the rare initiative to cross half of his body and fill up Johnny's and my wine glasses. He seemed unwilling to think about it too much and remained tight-lipped, as if he was deeply afraid that everything he said would be recorded.

After Benny touched the wine glass to Johnny's and mine, the three of us climbed onto the rock again. Like a middle-aged man who has experienced vicissitudes of life, is a cuckold, or has a career on the rocks, he happily drinks up the unpleasant John in one gulp and then fills it up again.

There are still many clouds that I cannot clarify one by one about what happened to Johnny and Benny himself. They obscure my sight, but I still involuntarily choose to transfer most of my energy to Johnny.

If anyone would put themselves in my shoes, or loosen the elastic a little and make some innocent and harmless assumptions, maybe a glimmer of understanding would ignite. Why do I seem to have such a sudden feeling towards Johnny that I feel sorry for the hero but also regret meeting him too late?

To say this is to put gold on one's own face, but this hero is not the hero who can save all sentient beings. I don't have superpowers, and I can't fly over walls and snatch innocent people out of danger. No one cheers for me, I can’t cross anyone, I can only cross myself to save myself; so, I am at least my own hero, right? People who face themselves like this? Why can't they be called heroes? I am unwilling and unable to distinguish right from wrong, and I have no spare energy to spend more energy on this and stir up the pain and sorrow in their hearts. Because I have never been subjected to domestic violence.

I have to admit that, apart from having such a possibly one-sided ideological resonance connection with Johnny, at the moment I really hope that Johnny is my neighbor and good friend. Based on this, I don’t care if Benny is taken away, or simply switched to Kuala Lumpur. Does his tortured old mother still care whether the person in front of her is Benny or Johnny? They look exactly the same. If she doesn't know Johnny's existence, what does it matter if Benny is swapped? ?Johnny has the ability to make money. Although he also makes money from the gambling table, but... Johnny shouldn't beat his mother, right? And he seems to get along better with me?

Of course, all of these are false assumptions and are doomed to be in vain. No one knows the answer, not even themselves.

Johnny accepted his fate, so he went with the flow; or was he forced to take this path? Obviously, since he has a biological father who is addicted to gambling, the only thing Johnny can do to resist fate is to at least Is gambling better than others? This may make people laugh, but how could I just listen to his words and rashly believe that he is a professional poker player? And unfortunately, he is in a downturn at this stage, but he was a frequently profitable poker player and stock market retail investor before?

There are many assumptions that keep knocking on my heart. I have no intention of using my thoughts to imprison myself to the point of suffocation and death, nor do I intend to become a prisoner of nothingness. I need to ensure that I am always above them in spirit and will, and no one can make me surrender my will.

At the same time, in order to break through the reality and complexity of all this, unexpected encounters occur. After drinking for three rounds, and before the smiling Mama-san came in, I temporarily gave up the idea of ​​escorting the lady. No matter how sexy the beauty was, it was not as good as the brilliant plan I thought of at the moment. It makes people feel their blood pumping and boost their spirits.

"Johnny, you said you are a Texas Hold'em player? Otherwise... you and I hands up and play heads-up. If you beat me, I will pay the money temporarily without interest. What do you think? Benny, you will deal the cards. You don’t have any objections, do you?”

I didn't even look at Benny, who was now assigned the role of a card dealer. Besides, this is the opportunity I gave him. He had to observe closely from the sidelines, and I can't blame him for that. I stared straight at Johnny and said:

"One person buys in RM2,000, and the big and small blinds are RM10. If you win all my chips, I will lend you an extra RM20,000. 0% interest. I will guarantee it, and Benny will witness it."

Johnny didn’t clink glasses with us this time, and drank two glasses in a row by himself. The face that floated up, with a drunken look, looked like the meaningless death struggle of a person at the end of his rope. Don't get me wrong, my feelings for Johnny remain the same, and I still want to trust him. It's just that now he has turned into this decadent look, which makes me a little angry. I have the ability to destroy him. Benny was the same, and I was getting tired of him. His mother is always quiet, what are you afraid of? I have already helped him to decide these things, but he is not grateful, but looks indifferent and stupid.

Apart from their hairstyles and clothes, I was also extremely bored. How can an identical face have two wills at the same time? Are the two pieces of water in front of the same person, or are they two manifestations of wills played by one person? Or are they two completely independent individuals? That guy Benny, he used to He dragged me to discuss Nietzsche. God is dead and his spirit has changed. Now he looks like a cowed camel, a dead camel who accepts everything and has no opinions.

If I could only choose one of the two, Benny and Johnny would be like cats being cared for by the monks in the east and west temples, and I would be Nanquan. I have the final say whether to kill or not to kill.

Johnny gently loosened his clenched fists. He squinted his eyes and raised the Bell & Ross flight watch on his left wrist. He stumbled and said to me in embarrassment:

"Benson...are you...saying...really?"

"You think I'm here to flirt with you?" I said nothing but smashed the ball.

Johnny was getting more and more drunk. After hearing my last statement, his dangerous and alert eyes suddenly lit up again, and he said uncharacteristically:

"Jenny, bring me a deck of cards, thank you."

Nine

Benny's (or Johnny's? I've never been sure?) body was pushed into the stove and roasted in a fine cypress coffin, half a year after his father's funeral on the fifth day of the Lunar New Year. I haven’t seen him since the night I returned to Johor Bahru on the seventh day of the Lunar New Year. All transactions, including round-trip transfers of funds, are completed through mobile communication.

I'm also not sure whether Benny caught the flight back to Taipei. In addition, I have not yet decided whether to make all the contents of his notes, especially those concerning me, public. I suddenly lost this self-confidence, and I have not yet completed this psychological construction. Whether it is a personal moral struggle or a private emotional aspect.

I wrote this manuscript of nearly 30,000 words without even realizing it. As the story went back, I couldn't help but have fundamental self-doubts about myself. I hope I still have time and opportunity to record the absurdity that followed.

And there are some personal notes and a few strange combinations of words and phrases in Benny's notes, which I believe have the value of a balanced perspective. But I still feel weak. I have never been able to break down, analyze and read out which stage of content can match the experience of the past six months. The following are a few of Benny's notes. I tried my best to sort out the incorrect grammar, typos, inversions, and arbitrary content of the article.

(1)

Whenever someone throws this kind of question to me, a strong desire to destroy everything comes back. I always try to stop this kind of thinking, even if the problems and weight it throws are not on the normal and evenly distributed curve. They are always in various shapes, sometimes violent, sometimes light, attacking me like lead and silk, and this burning feeling of death is also increasing every time.

Like a trigonometric function missing a leg, a compass without a pointer, a mobile device without a signal, docked in the mist waiting for me is a nameless ship, heading toward the unknown nameless... I forgot Why did I pass by this place and forget who sent me this vague invitation? It was Benson, my father who was addicted to gambling and only showed up on Parents' Day, or my mother who was so unlucky that she married the wrong man and gave birth to the wrong son and I was always wrong, or the other me later on.

If this is inevitable in life, why should I avoid it? I caught a glimpse of another me in the void, and looked at him face to face in front of the real card table. If he illuminates the inevitability of this life for me, then my mutual demise does not seem to me like a weak escape (I must first put aside the thought of whether life has meaning, otherwise it will be endless. ).

Yes, I also thought of it. The option of dying together is not a lazy replacement. At least it has the difference between ripples near and far. Whether it is in a very private circle, or it has practical significance that radiates to a wider circle... I promise, I promise that I will not be obsessed with how to shape the appearance of this kind of problem again before I completely convince myself. , and no longer eager to show others the essence.

Neither good nor evil. Benson may be right, but it is not convenient for me to say it face to face. That man may be another possibility of mine.

(2)

Regarding the topic of death, it also reminds me that apart from myself, I recently encountered a sign on the exit outside a low-cost government flat, saying "please wait until you commit suicide".

I want to tie my head into knots before I break it.

Frequent suicides in the country. The location of the incident ranged from the individual's bedroom to both sides of the overpass. They were hiding in the corner of the social section. Some were picking their noses and yawning with their eyes open. Easy-to-open RIP messages hidden in social media are also hidden in SMS appeals secretly broadcast by government departments.

No matter what method you adopt, or what kind of mood you have, is suicide an escape or a helpless compromise? Is it the last noble act of a human being, or is it a depressed smart-aleck? I try to explain in depth... Why, as a human being, I am unable to write my personal power of life and death, but just become a PET bottle without water; that is, You can’t decide your own birth, but you can at least keep it secret for the rest of your life.

They chose to commit suicide out of their true passion for life. In the end, did they also gain peace? The lives and condolences that no one pays attention to, and the thoughts that are packed with people. I wanted to laugh at myself, but it turned out that I forgot to zip my pants. A performance with no one on stage except myself. I couldn’t tell what time it was before the bell rang for repairs.

Death may also herald withering, and some people cover their ears with righteousness, or are they pretending not to see it out of fear? After all, this kind of negative news can easily corrode your mood, and there is no serum or drugs to cheer you up. The main reason why it floated into the lungs was that someone was pretending to have shit in their head.

(3)

Write a footnote for the footnote and put the title away. People who read it want to tuck themselves into bed and sleep, and people who write it think it's great. Life may not have a theme, but it will definitely eat some pig's feet.

Some people are hiding and absconding, and some are showing off their legs. Good or bad, don't live in other people's quarrels, just be compassionate. Nicai put on her camouflage uniform and took a nap, running around in her dream with God on her back. I looked for it while reading, but I couldn't find the title or the footnotes. In the tomb of God in the jungle of books, I found salvation, but I could no longer find my way back.

I said good night and good.

(4)

Van Gogh's left ear and eleven sunflowers. Van Gogh's rebellion turned a deaf ear until his ears fell off. Fortunately, he did not remain in obscurity even after his death. My shoelaces were loose, but the bell rang; I stole 420 seeds and worked hard, but my crooked feet ran to the wrong side. The ears are still there, and the 420 seeds are rolled up into a Maryjane.

(5)

Demonstration of what it means to break a wall with ghosts:

All assumptions are untenable. People choose themselves when they are at the end of their rope. But rich people, will they spontaneously mark their lives forever in a certain moment in the blooming season? I would rather believe, at least for now, and hope to believe so in the future, that the meaning of life lies in creation, and as long as one breath remains, everything will be It's possible.

Creativity does not equate to positivity. This is a flaw in thinking and self-deception. The so-called creation must be impartial and full of randomness in its attributes. If you sow melons, you will be a fool; if you sow beans, you will be bean sprouts. If you create a life experience with negative and dark tones, it may be difficult to have an incredible and surprisingly brilliant life experience.

There is no clear clue between the extreme probability and the unexpected event.

The so-called poverty is the failure of hope, rather than the rigidity of material scarcity. All the poverty is caused by the angry words in the coffee shop, and even the vitality of buying 10,000 words and gambling is lost. In a life of abundance and self-consistency, I no longer think about creation, and I refuse to waste money on right and wrong, right and wrong, good and bad, and good and evil in the passing months. I try my best to comfort every moment wholeheartedly.

There are two possible ways to accept reality: a happy death and a painful life. For those who choose self-termination, use themselves as the object, or use other people as the coordinate, and choose to die together, I can only hope that at that moment, I can bless them to obtain eternal liberation.

Before the smoke is about to burn out, please breathe it deeply into your lungs and exhale it slowly and slowly. What we feel is not ethereal, but an eager life that blooms all the time. Although its performance is sometimes a bit gloomy, we may not be able to grasp it every time. And I wanted to give Johnny a chance.

(5)

Van Gogh cut off his ear and gave it to Beethoven, whereupon he heard the sound of sunflowers blooming. poet/dentures

ten

Ten community cards: K (heart) K (diamond) 8 (heart)

I took AK in mixed colors, and the single cards were in a set. The chance of two people holding AK at the same time was not high. At the same time, I still must not rule out the possibility of Johnny buying a flush on the turn and river cards. A person who has been at a disadvantage for a long time should not give up such a rare counterattack opportunity (provided that he has two Zhang Hongxin).

I quickly and deliberately pushed a full bet. In addition to trying to put pressure on Johnny with a premeditated and unthinking move, I had to maintain my table image. After all, I was aggressive throughout the game. Several times I deliberately bluffed. After stealing the pot, I would deliberately show him the two cards in my hand, and there was no winning card on any card.

And in this hand too, I had to convince him. My purpose in doing this is just to rely on bluff to easily collect the pot, and I have tried it successfully.

In another implicit line of action I constructed, my very personal selfish desires were also buried deep, my extremely strong desire to see Johnny collapse. I tentatively believe that he has gone through all kinds of hardships and struggles at a young age, but at an unknown moment, he tirelessly challenged fate with a violent attitude that broke the cauldron, and relied on his extraordinary card skills to travel among major casinos or private card games. As a result, he gained a lot of income, and even shouldered all the gambling debts owed by his father? From the actual game with him, I can feel this exuberant and rough image.

Yes, I would also like to win professional poker to sacrifice my lackluster poker resume. In addition, although these two people have very different life experiences, they have their own personalities formed by nature or nurture. In my opinion, especially at the card table, they must have inherited their father's bloodline, and the whole family is full of scornful people.

Benny, who was sitting between me and Johnny, looked at the cards with stranded eyes in confusion. He swallowed a little bit of saliva gently, and his Adam's apple, like a raisin, shook as if frightened, reminding me of that moment.

Kakakakak... I think the three of us heard the sound of changing the gears of destiny at the same time.

Our chips were evenly matched and we fought in an indistinguishable manner for nearly two hours. Several times I almost crushed him, but he always slowly and leisurely asked me for his chips back bit by bit. Johnny has a kind of pure mathematical calculation, and his playing style is more absolute rationality and modern concepts that are almost paranoid. I can more or less feel this atmosphere from his action line, a mathematical strategy that approaches the optimal solution in game theory, a GTO (Game Theoretical Optimum) strategy that is sought after by the world's top players. Johnny must be very obsessed with this, what Nash equilibrium theory, funny.

And this obsession is also dangerous, especially when he is constantly deconstructing and calculating the odds, implied odds and fold rates of each hand in his mind... I can almost hear him doing all the calculations. The hissing sound of the head working at high speed. Being so obsessed with calculating the results made him naturally forget about his own body language, and thus lacked more detailed deliberation and analysis that did not presuppose a position.

And what I pursue is not just these, nor should it be these. No one can deny that Texas Hold'em poker is a kind of gambling. But who can guarantee that there is nothing in the world that is not gambling? This is a matter of probability and a carefully considered judgment, regardless of whether the judgment is accurate or not. In addition, nothing in this world is without risks. Doing things that are far beyond the controllable range of personal risks is really fatal.

I love playing these kinds of games with Johnny, especially on a psychological level. I like to observe my opponent's reaction when faced with great pressure. When I force him to make a difficult decision, the pleasure that comes from within cannot be compared to any other drug. As long as I observe and summarize it carefully, Johnny's tells will show up without any resistance. When necessary, I will give him my final blessings and even destroy his poker career. Besides, no matter whether I win or lose, even if I don’t lend him the money, I will lend it to Benny.

He always tilts his head and presses his neck to the left or right, which is what Johnny does every time he wins a card; he puts his palms lightly on his temples and pats them twice, which is a sign of a struggle between advance and retreat. performance; and when he glanced at me with embarrassment, I knew that the look he cast was an absolute distrust of my line of action.

His eyes were as manic as if he had inherited his father's will, and he was also like a hungry beast with the ambition to take over the whole world.

"I don't have a flush, but I have a King, so I'll bet with you, I'm all-in." Under his cold tone, he was half-hearted and confident.

Johnny took K2 spades flush, and when he revealed his hole card, I couldn't wait to see if his broken face smelled like his father's charcoal. I don’t believe in typewriter monkeys, let alone two monkeys with K2s appearing in just a few days.

Turn card: Queen of hearts

My winning rate went up again. He believes in probability, I believe in myself.

Before the river card was dealt, Benny did not slow down his movements dramatically. His decisiveness even made me think that he couldn't wait to end the game, and he must also know what Johnny's hand and the hand that was dealt actually meant. In the end, all the chips were pushed onto Johnny's table, except for the two hole cards that I reluctantly revealed and the empty wine glass.

River card: Heart 2

Johnny's K2 spades flush, after the river card fell a heart 2, he successfully overtook and formed a stronger full house than me. RM20,000 is indeed not a very sad and frustrating loss. If I had to find a reason for this loss, I would not blame it on my bad luck. The only questionable aspect may be my post-flop strategy. In any case, with this deck of cards in hand and facing this card, I have no option to fold whether before the flop or after the flop. This is a very rare event in poker, especially the 2 on the river. Johnny was just lucky.

"Nice hand."

After knocking on the table twice, I raised half of my buttocks deliberately and nonchalantly, preparing to pour wine for the K2 brothers. Even though the stench of frustration and the ridiculous and humiliating mood still made me temporarily suffocated.

"Benson, you sure?" Johnny took the wine, as if to thank the dealer for his good luck, and took the lead in filling Benny's glass. Johnny asked as my drink nearly overflowed from the rim, and I felt a hint of provocation.

"Are you afraid that I will run away? Which bank do you use? I will transfer it to you now." I raised the wine glass to my eyes and drank it myself.

Johnny smiled, but did not raise his glass. Instead, he picked up the wallet on the table. A pack of white powder was placed flatly in his wallet. He calculated the amount of powder as rigorously as an experimenter. He then took out a credit card and cut the white powder into three lines. Finally, he rolled a blue banknote into one. Paper straws.

As he moved, Benny finally calmed down his nervousness. He turned the huge sound equipment system in the box back on gently and connected it to his mobile device, and the music soon started playing.

The language temporarily sank under the sofa, the three of us stopped talking, Johnny stopped attacking, Benny gave up the ideological struggle, and my hope was stillborn. Johnny raised his hand to invite me to enjoy it first. I moved my butt next to him, leaned over the table, pressed my left finger on my left nose, and held the blue straw in my right hand. I followed the line and went back and forth two or three times. , a strip of powder that was extremely smooth was licked clean by me.

The music played by Benny is not intended to give people a slow sense of the ups and downs of emotions and atmosphere. From the moment it sounded, the heavy drum beats and sometimes flat and sometimes sharp and high notes piled heavily on me, making me feel dizzy as if I was afraid of heights. It was originally made into a piece of disconnected gray boxes. The cool powder gathered and dispersed at the tip of my nose. The occasional scattered light made me unable to open my eyes. Johnny dimmed the lights in the box, and the three escort girls appeared.

eleven

Except for one more trip to the morgue to collect the death certificate, Benny and Johnny unanimously decided to give up as much as possible on all coffins, funerals, funerals and meritorious deeds. Neither relatives nor friends were notified, nor was the paper car burned, and of course no incense was burned in the spirit house. I can somewhat understand their thoughts.

It is said that this is what their father hinted to Johnny before he was alive. Their family are all loose atheists, and I can easily sum up the reasons for their father's motives for seeking death. But hiding behind a car burning charcoal, I finally figured out what kind of man his father was. I have no intention of speaking justice to the dead, but I think their fathers are somewhat aware of it. Looking at this from an outsider's perspective, even though this man has left a lot of messes and is a completely bad gambler, at least... at least he has the courage to make a choice? I try to think, his dad Psychological preparation and reality tools before suicide. No matter what method he took, at the end of his life, he took the initiative to end his embarrassing life with death. I have to admire him. How resolutely and decisively he went to die, or whether he was reluctant to do so, doesn't seem to be so important.

"You really don't want to see him for the last time?" I asked Benny sincerely before the coffin was nailed.

"What's so good about it? Isn't the pink corpse very majestic? Is it colorful? If so, I'll look at it!" Benny didn't show any sentimentality, and was even a little more sentimental.

Johnny was the only one who saw his father's stiff and cold face. He silently held his hand on the upper edge of the coffin. Under the sunglasses, what exactly was he telling this father? The two lips that were always tightly closed and equally indifferent were bloodless. I could only guess that his words were insincere. Johnny stood in front of the coffin for a full fifteen minutes, while Benny stood behind him like a lost soul.

No one said a word until the coffin that went straight to the crematorium arrived and pushed their father's coffin onto the car. Johnny drove his Audi TT, and I followed behind with Benny. The coffin drove sadly and miserably at the front, without even a photo hanging on it.

"5096." Benny looked out the window and suddenly threw this seemingly randomly arranged number at me.

"What?" I turned to look at him.

"Buy me some letters." He didn't turn to look at me, but leaned against the window with a stiff face. Not only did this tone not mean a request, but it sounded like a command. I know clearly that this is not a personal order for me, but perhaps a final farewell to fate and his father. Benny has never bought a word, so why did he suddenly want to buy a word? I was busy driving. The busy streets of the capital and the reckless driving made me temporarily unable to distract myself from asking him more questions. I've been playing for three nights in a row and I just want to go home early and go to bed.

"It's still early, I'll remind you later." Benny showed rare consideration.

twelve

(6)

The biggest gain for me from studying journalism is to understand my own tendencies and opinions. I won’t say: Well, the biggest thing I gained from studying journalism is to be compassionate, impartial, neutral and objective, and do my best to expose the truth... Let’s expose it to the sun... .Such crude and self-deceptive declarations no longer satisfy me. The media literacy of the general public no longer troubles me. If someone thinks poop tastes good, what can I do? Besides, can I be sure that it is really poop?

This is just my personal feeling, written in my private notebook. The training in the journalism department forced me to stand in a more neutral perspective and digest all the events that came into my sight. At the same time, I was able to use this opportunity to regurgitate, refute, and resist my own opinions.

It is a pity that the news we are chasing now has gradually become monotonous and succumbed to distinct ideologies. What is real news? What events are worthy of our concern? If I don't do my best to get the truth out of the cave, I risk misleading others, and I don't want to do that.

I accidentally discovered the story of Hunter S. Thompson, which forced me to think about more possibilities. I tried to discuss it with the classmates around me, but maybe I was too extreme and did not achieve much resonance. The so-called left-leaning journalism emphasizes the need to go to the scene in person and discover the truth through one's own experience... I dream that one day I can find a different approach to typical themes. It’s not just the so-called rock music, sex, drugs, violence, politics and sports. This kind of subject matter does not really attract me, but what can attract me? Maybe based on my own experience, I thought of my dad, and I died with him.

Having said that, Hunter S. Thompson's final ending is still inevitable and suicide, which is particularly touching to me. He put the gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. I will definitely look for some of his biographical films when I get the chance.

Oh, and most likely William Faulkner, who inspired Hunter S. Thompson, if I had more time. I like his assertion that the best fiction is far truer than any form of journalism.

(7)

San Mao, Kurt Cobain, Leslie Cheung, Jimi Hendrix, Stefan Zweig, Yuan Zhesheng, Jim Morrison, Lao She, Kawabata Yasunari, Hemingway, Hu Qian, Heath Ledger...

(8)

Benson always talks a lot, and I don’t know if it’s because of his inferiority complex. He always speaks loudly, and he also likes cars and guns. But I still think he is a very interesting person, always full of fighting spirit and very aware of his own nature. I like to share with him, simply share, all kinds of fun things.

But he was still wrong. The last time he came back, he made fun of my hair style, and I wasn't angry. He was wrong, still a bit impetuous, and I'm not referring to Trainspotting, but to 1999's Fight Club. But this bald head is neither Edward Norton nor Brad Pitt, and certainly not the fanatical "believers" in the movie.

I watched it three times in half a year. I was hiding in the movie and comics section of the library alone. I watched it through the screen and partitions and burst into tears. I believe that a movie that is worth watching three times to get it right is a good movie, of course, for you.

But is there any book or movie that one cannot watch more than twice? No matter how bad the creator is, at least there is an audience, which can be no one, or it can be oneself. One day, I discovered that my love for "Fighting Club" had sublimated. And as more and more people around me like this movie, it loses the fun for me.

Moreover, it was summer at that time, and it was hotter than the Malay Peninsula. There was nothing wrong with a refreshing bald haircut. Benson can go eat shit.

(9)

Heaven and earth are unkind and regard all things as stupid dogs.

(10)

Dad's favorite word was actually the number of the coffin car, which won the second prize. Complete it with my hands, your last wish? old grudge? I can give my mother a sum of money, and give Benson the money for the coffin... I have one more thing to do.

(11)

There is a masked man at the card table, wearing sunglasses and a grandfather hat, and the dealer is constantly gossiping. I can use local materials and write Johnny and Benson into the story. They are not only materials, but also a mirror. Standing opposite me, I see myself (of course I see myself!) One day Johnny fights He gave it to me and said that he wanted to borrow a sum of money, which was all the profits I had made at the poker table. So, was it Johnny who lost to me? This is a zero sum game, and I'm tired of it. For me and him, maybe just one is enough.

(12)

Gajah depan mata tak nampak, tapi semut di sungai nampak

Thirteen

On October 13th, I hope he is still alive.

Around the eighth day of the Lunar New Year, my mother remitted a second prize directly to Benny's account. He paid me back RM20,000 that night, and then I injected RM15,000 into his online poker account. After that, every other week, he would ask me to withdraw money from his poker account, about RM4,000 each time, and transfer it to his personal account.

After nearly four months of being sweet, starting in June, I started receiving text messages from him about every four days. Every time I received his text message, I would follow the instructions and inject RM5,000 into his account. Benny always sent money first and then asked me to inject capital, which made me feel embarrassed. However, in the last three capital injections, Benny did not remit the money to me.

And I didn't check my account in time.

This continued for another two months, until today, half a month later, he no longer transferred poker funds to his account from me, nor did he withdraw money from me and transfer it to his personal bank account, because the account was already empty. And I gradually lost track of whether it was Benny or Johnny who was lying in the coffin. A certain person sent me a message the day after the incident. When I arrived, the person was lifeless.

If he shows up again one day, whether it's Johnny or Benny, I will say sorry to him. But, I have never been able to get rid of that smell of charcoal.