I Just Want to Copy Books in Peace

Call a car first, a Didi special car. Du Caige touched the pocket of his jacket, but there was none.

He touched the pocket of his jeans again and took out a small mobile phone.

Just as he was about to open the Didi app to call a car, he suddenly realized: Oh, this seems to be a flip phone from more than ten years ago?

Du Caige was stunned for a while, and awkwardly opened the flip of the phone with his frozen fingers.

The dim light is on, and the eye is a very small color screen, estimated to be less than two inches, and full of grain.

Reminds Du Caige of his first mobile phone in high school.

Don't think about it, there is definitely no Didi app on this kind of phone.

Du Caige was puzzled.

Whose suit is this? Why is there such an old mobile phone in my pocket that should be in a museum?

He felt that he had vaguely grasped a clue.

But when he thought about it carefully, he had a severe headache, which suddenly distracted him.

After the headache, there was a dizziness that made him just want to lie down and sleep soundly.

No, I can't sleep here.

He closed the phone cover, tucked into his jeans, and continued on the S-shaped route.

After walking around for a while, he didn't know how he got to the gate of the community.

Seeing the guard booth, he breathed a sigh of relief.

But the security of this community seems to be very strict. The sidewalk gates are the kind that only one person can pass through at a time, and they must swipe their cards.

Du Caige reached out and touched the back waist of the jeans, and found a bunch of keys.

Jingle.

With his frozen fingers, he took a little effort to remove the key, and his distorted and blurred vision looked carefully for a while, but he couldn't find the small access card.

After thinking for a while, he hung the key back, touched the pocket of his jeans, and found an IC card on the left.

When I got closer, I vaguely saw Yuxi International written on it.

He tried swiping on the barrier, and the green light came on.

Du Caige immediately pushed open the barrier and walked out.

He raised his hand, sighed at the palm, touched his body again, and finally found a wallet in the inner pocket of his jacket.

When he opened it, there was an ID card inside. Du Caige took out a section and saw his head.

Although it is a little strange, why his ID card is in a strange wallet, but too many strange things have happened tonight, he just wants to get a taxi and go back to the hotel where the crew is staying, with his head covered. Get some sleep, wake up refreshed and clear-headed, and try to figure out what's going on with your smart brain.

He inserted the ID card back, and looked at the cash again. There was a thick stack, about one, two, three, or four thousand.

Enough for a taxi.

He observed the environment, the street lights were bleak, the shops along the road were basically closed, only one night snack food stall was still lit, but the tables and chairs outside were empty, and it was estimated that the stalls would be closed soon.

The old newspapers and plastic bags were blown by the wind and gliding on the empty sidewalks. Apart from him, there was no human figure, not even a ghost.

After waiting for two minutes, no vehicle was seen passing by.

Du Caige's already dull head was blown by the wind, not only did not become sharp, but even more dull.

It took him a long time to figure out that this is the small road at the entrance of the community, and it is estimated that it is difficult to get a taxi.

You have to get to the main road first.

But Du Caige was very unfamiliar with the road here, so he had no choice but to go in a random direction while trembling.

At the beginning, I was still a little energetic, but soon I felt sour and soft, as if all my strength had been exhausted, and I soon drooped my eyelids and shuffled away.

As Du Caige walked, he fell into a state of broken pieces from time to time. Just suddenly feel a blank mind, do not know what I am doing, where I am.

And then come back,

After understanding my situation, I looked at the shop next to it as a reference, and found that I had walked a dozen meters further.

But his luck was good. After walking for more than ten minutes, he found that there was a wide road in front of him, and there were vehicles coming and going.

Du Caige's spirit was refreshed, and he yawned several times in succession, and the steps that he had been dragging became a little brisk.

After finally coming to the side of the main road, Du Caige walked to the edge of the sidewalk, expecting a taxi to come right away.

After waiting for a while, the taxi did not wait, but he kept falling into a state of fragmentation, his consciousness began to sag, and he lost his grasp of time. I don't know if it was one, two, three or four minutes, or five, six, seven or eight minutes.

At this time, a police car came slowly from the left.

Du Caige glanced at it, and continued to droop his head, his eyelids were so heavy that he could hardly lift them up, and his body staggered unknowingly, almost falling.

The police car stopped in front of him.

Soon the co-pilot's door opened, and a female police officer stepped down, giving the impression that she was between 30 and 35 years old, but she couldn't see the exact appearance, and Du Caige's vision was blurred to the point of severe alcohol poisoning.

The female police officer put her right hand on her back waist, and held a flashlight in her left hand to shine a light on Du Caige's face.

Du Caige did not raise his hand to block the light. He is now insensitive to light, as dull as if he were eighty years old.

If he was really drunk, he would definitely raise his hand to block it.

The female police officer took no further steps, and soon a policeman, a male, who appeared to be in his thirties, stepped down from the driver's seat of the police car.

He watched Du Caige carefully for a while, and stretched his right hand behind his waist.

Du Caige's consciousness was already blurred, he didn't understand what their actions meant, and he didn't know how to react.

The two policemen exchanged glances.

The female police officer said, Sir, is there anything I can help you with?

The sound was nice, but it was so far away that it seemed to come from the sky.

Although Du Caige heard it, he felt that he was listening to others in a dream, and he couldn't pay attention or be aware of what the other party was saying.

So he just grunted and didn't answer.

Sir, please look at me.

For some reason, these words entered Du Caige's consciousness again. He raised his head slightly in a daze and looked at the policeman in front of him.

But his consciousness was still very sluggish and unable to respond properly.

Sir, have you been drinking? Are you inhaled?

Although Du Caige was confused, he still shook his head instinctively.

Sir, sir...

The boundless darkness finally came up.

Du Caige felt that the last bit of strength in his body had been drained, he couldn't help himself, and fell backwards.

...

The little nurse stared at the thermometer for a few seconds: 36 degrees 8, normal.

She put away the thermometer, looked at Du Caige, and unknowingly took a second glance.

It wasn't until the older fat nurse next to her coughed twice that she took back her pink and loving eyes: Your body is fine now, and you can leave the hospital at any time. But I suggest you go to our hospital's psychiatric clinic to make an appointment... …”

After she finished speaking, Du Caige asked listlessly, I don't want to go to the psychiatric clinic. Is there a transit agency near your hospital? I'm going to consult something.

what?

Nothing, just kidding.

At this time, a gentle and intellectual female voice interjected at the right time: If you have the energy to joke, it means that you have almost recovered.

The one who pushed in the door was a female police officer, about thirty-five years old, with short hair tied back into a rather energetic short ponytail. She has a good appearance, slightly dark skin, and a somewhat rich body.

Du Caige almost immediately remembered: This should be the one who asked him before he fell into a coma.