Chapter 5 Phantom Santo

There was a question in the reply letter from a certain magazine: "Among the cases reported in the newspaper this year, which case are you most interested in?" My answer was as follows: "I have never been interested in real cases, I only see the unbearable reality in it." distressed." It seems to be rather fashionable lately for journalists to call on detective writers for advice whenever a complicated case arises.It's just that when I meet someone like me who hardly pays attention to social news, it's quite presumptuous to ask the reporter about the ins and outs of the interview while being confused.

A lot of people have asked me, "Are many of the ideas in your novels inspired by true crime?" and I've replied, "No, none of the ideas were inspired by true crime. They are consistent with my reasoning The novels have nothing to do with each other, they're something from another world. So I don't find True Crime books interesting at all." A knowledgeable old man once told me about the rare cases that happened.The case is indeed bizarre, and because the old man's words are full of wit and wit, it is estimated that most people will listen with great interest.But no matter what kind of real case, I have never experienced the slightest pleasure from it.I am a resident of an incorrigible virtual realm.I like Da Su Fangnian's cruel paintings, but I have no interest in real blood.Crime scene pictures and stuff like that just make me sick.

"For me, the world in the daytime is like an unreal space, and the dreamland at night is my reality. There is my real life there." Edgar Allan Poe once wrote similar words. "In the dream of Wu Yuyu's night, how can you talk about the glimpses of the day." This is a waka written by Junichiro Tanizaki specially for me a few years ago, and it is still hanging on the alcove of my house.I think it has something in common with Edgar Allan Poe's words, and I can't put it down. Ordonov, the main character in Dostoevsky's "The Landlady", "was a well-known eccentric in the neighborhood since he was a child. Because of his eccentric and withdrawn personality, he was not only excluded by his friends, but also always treated harshly and indifferently by the people around him." I just read this part, so I quoted this passage, but Dostoevsky's works can be seen everywhere in such characters.

Reading the sentences in "The Landlady" evoked a feeling of nostalgia in me, and I looked back on my boyhood.The teenager at that time was obviously more sensitive than anyone else to "others being mean and indifferent to each other", but he put on a mask to hide the inner turmoil. He seemed calm, but actually hated reality strongly in his heart. As a boy I had a habit of wandering around dark towns at night, muttering to myself.At that time, I lived in Xiaobo Shanren's "World Fairy Tales".For me, the foreign land on the other side of the long time is the real world, which is more realistic and more exciting than the daytime card games.I imitated the voices of different characters that only existed in that country, and talked to myself about the big and small things in the phantom country that is far more realistic than the real world.But if someone accosts me suddenly on the road at night, I have to force myself to recover immediately and return to this real world that is extremely strange to me.Whenever this happens, I will immediately fall into depression and depression, and become a timid and honest person again.

The means of transportation to my wonderful dreamland is a ship called "words". For me, words are the mystery that exists in another world.Writing and type, that square, indifferent alloy of lead and certain metals, seemed alien to the substance of the earth.Typefaces are the precious bridge leading to my dream country, and I love "the unreality of typefaces" deeply. In order to get together the funds to buy typefaces, I lived an extremely self-disciplined life for more than half a year.I can't remember the specific conditions anymore, I probably promised my father to get up early.On the last day, he gave me a big bonus, and I rushed to the only type shop in town and asked him to wrap up a bunch of metallic-smelling, gleaming No. 4s that I'd been dreaming about day and night.In addition, there were several pieces of white wood type boxes, and my friend and I carried them back to my four-and-a-half-fold room.

Having bought the type, the box, and a tin of printing ink, my winnings were used up, so I had to make my own printing machinery.I saw it at the shop of a nearby business card printing factory, and tried to remember how to make a wooden hand press printing machine. I wrote a story manuscript, picking out the typefaces like a printer, arranging them in imitation of a typewriter, smearing ink with a roller, pressing rough paper, and pressing the machine hard.That unbelievable joy will never be forgotten.I'm finally on board a ship to a wonderful country, and I'm the captain of that beautiful ship.

The young man who is physically weak, mentally weak and likes to wander in his fantasy world finally gave up his wish to become the lord of a certain city in the real world, and started to build a city in the phantom kingdom, and became the lord of the city.No matter how stubborn and fierce the kid king is around him, he will not be able to destroy the Phantom City.No, it didn't even occur to them to board the cloud bridge leading to that castle. It is natural for such a young man to have no interest in the big and small things in the real world, nor would he think of using his words to benefit the world or harm the society.For him, that was another world entirely.If fiction can only be written like a political treatise for the positive improvement of life, then he must loathe "fiction" as much as he loathes "reality."

When the boy grows up, he learns to live in the world (well, he has become more or less worldly. Every time he goes back to the land of dreams, he always clenches his fists with anger), and starts to work.He works as a manager of an individual trader, or as an employee of a large company.The job wasn't difficult, but it was painful for him to pretend to be a soldier in an earthly city enjoying reality.Because without a fixation on reality (or at least a faux pas), you can't be an employee of a for-profit company. He has to live in the real world from morning to night, and the only space left for him is the night dream, which can't satisfy his greed, he wants more time away from the real world.Therefore, when everyone is chatting happily, he must be quite strange in the eyes of his colleagues when he is in a daze and silent.Concerned about the perception of his colleagues, he couldn't turn himself into a real phantom castellan.The strong hunger for solitude and fantasy made him irritable and unbearable.

In the dormitory for single employees of a certain company, he left the six-fold Japanese room assigned to him and hid in the upper shelf of the closet in the room.Because colleagues may open the paper door and poke their heads in at any time, he can't pretend that he is not in the room even if he is traveling in the phantom land. He spread a bedding on the dark shelf of the closet, and lay on the upper shelf, without making a sound all day.He remembers clearly that while he was practicing his German, words such as "Einsamkeit" (lonely) were painted on the wall of the closet.He must have felt sad for loneliness, but also enjoyed it at the same time.Only in the dark closet, he is the phantom city lord of the kingdom of dreams.

However, as an employee, this kind of freewheeling life obviously cannot be perfectly reconciled with work.He couldn't stay any longer, offered to resign, and kept changing jobs in the following days.Finding no place to live in the real world, he mourned.Soon, the "type" ship of his boyhood returned. At that moment, he realized his destiny to become the owner of the phantom city, and this was the only place for him to stay. Some novelists are fighters for humanity, and most of the rest are entertainers, perhaps, who profit from entertaining readers.But I just think that kind of realistic and utilitarian view is just a bluff.All novelists are more or less unable to adapt to real life (on the ground), because they are more suitable to become the lord of the phantom city, so they will embark on this road, which is far more important than any utilitarianism. more important factor.

As a phantom castellan, I see no shame in my indifference to real-world crimes.