Chapter 9 He is in my heart?

At 4:08, I left Beijing.The old poet in the mental hospital reminded me many years ago, "This is Beijing at 4:08, and a majestic whistle blows..." He was so close to me that he was so close to my eyes that even part of his body was fused with mine.I had to stay away from him so that I could see him clearly. I took the train to Shanxi, to that dark city that produces coal. I stayed in a hotel and called my office.It was my assistant who picked it up. I lowered my voice and said, "Please find Zhou Dedong." She said: "Zhou Dedong is not here, he went to Shanxi. You are..."

She probably felt like my voice sounded like mine. I hung up the phone. The next day was the weekend, and there was no one in the editorial department.It's time for him to show up. I found a girl who works as a waiter in a hotel and asked her to help me find someone.He gave her some tips, and then I explained to her. She dialed the phone, hands-free: "Du——————————" Dialed! The phone rang for a long time, but no one answered. The girl asked me what to do with her eyes.I signaled her to continue to wait. The phone rang for a long time and was finally picked up. The girl was a little nervous: "Hey, may I ask, Zhou, is Zhou Dedong here?"

The other party's voice was very low: "I am. What's the matter with you?" he is! I heard his voice for the first time! He's in my office! I grabbed the phone and said in a trembling voice: "Hello, I am a reader in Shanxi. I have read your articles, and I have always wanted to ask you for advice..." I was thinking about what to say next. "What's wrong with you?" he asked with concern. I said: "I am particularly afraid of the night. Whenever the night falls, it is the most painful time for me. I can even hear a lot of strange voices and see a lot of terrible images. I even want to commit suicide."

He said: "Mr., you have visual hallucinations and auditory hallucinations. There is nothing terrible. Look at the stories I wrote. Are the plots written in them more terrifying than what you experienced? Many of them are my own experiences, but I've cracked the mystery of it. It's a ridiculous mystery. It's beautiful to be alive." I said: "I don't think it's bad to live, I just can't stand it anymore. Many good friends have persuaded me, but they can't help me. These days, I want to go to Beijing to relax. I don't know if I can meet you." A face?"

He said: "I'm writing a long horror story right now, okay after a while?" I asked, "What's the name of this book?" He said: "It's called "Little Man", and it will be published in about thirty days." I was shocked: "Little Man" is a book I just started writing recently, and it is a commercial secret. It seems that I have not revealed the title of the book to anyone, not even my assistants, not even my wife.It can be said that the title of this book has just been decided, and it is still in my heart, and it has not yet been written in black and white.He actually said it!

He is in my heart? I had to get him to agree to meet me, and I urgently thought of a plan. Doesn't he always come across as a good guy?Then I attack his soft spot. I insisted: "Going to Beijing may be the last trip in my life, and I don't think I will ever come back to Shanxi. I have finished all the funeral affairs. I just want to see you." He suddenly became determined: "I didn't see anyone while I was writing. I'm really sorry." Then he added: "If you have any fears, you can call me at night." I said, "Why do you fight at night?"

"I write at night and sleep during the day. Get used to it," he said. No matter what I say, he never sees me. Then I called again, but no one answered. When I left that city, I made a special trip to "Yungang Documentary Literature".All colleagues, they warmly received me.I asked them if they had any contact with the author named Aiying.The editor-in-chief said, "Is there no such author?" I said, "It was the 2nd issue or the 12th issue last year, I can't remember exactly." An editorial staff found those two issues of the magazine.No!I remember that article was posted on the last two pages, pages 65 and 66.At that time, I was still surprised: if the 16-format magazine had 4 printed sheets, it must have 64 pages.

The editor-in-chief said: "Look, we have 4 printed sheets, how can there be 65 pages and 66 pages?"