As Xiao Shu wondered where the bloodstains had come from, a dark shadow loomed up behind him. Before he could turn, a glinting cleaver was pressed against his throat, and a voice commanded, "Drop the bag, hands up." Xiao Shu sighed at his rotten luck—not even fifteen minutes out, and he was running into a mugger again. He had no choice but to unstrap his backpack, place it at the robber's feet, and raise his hands above his head.

The robber didn't harm him, merely bending down to retrieve the bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and slowly drawing the cleaver away from Xiao Shu's neck. He backed away slowly, one step at a time. Just as Xiao Shu was about to turn around, the robber bolted, cleaver in hand and bag slung, running ten times faster than a rabbit. Yet, despite that speed, he hadn't gone three hundred meters before he was struck by an object flying in from nowhere, his head instantly separating from his body. The severed head tumbled five or six meters away, while the body pitched forward, succumbing to the momentum of its run. Hiding in a corner, Xiao Shu witnessed the entire scene, his heart filling with terror. His backpack now rested on the shoulder of the headless corpse, and he dared not approach to retrieve it. Only when everything settled and he cautiously peered out from his hiding spot did he confirm he was alone. He quickly moved to reclaim his bag and bolted from that eerie place as fast as he could.

However, he had only taken two steps when a police patrol appeared. Remembering the lesson from the first encounter, Xiao Shu darted back into the corner to hide. The officers got out of their cruiser and examined the body for a long time, shaking their heads as they carefully placed the head and body into a body bag before hoisting them into the trunk. The trunk appeared utterly full, the lid refusing to close properly. As the police car sped past him in a rush, Xiao Shu got a clear look inside: the trunk was crammed with bulging, brownish-yellow body bags, easily numbering five or six at a rough count.

It turned out the real source of dread wasn't the mugger. Xiao Shu finally understood that the sudden gouging of eyes and the decapitation occurring out of thin air were the fundamental reasons for everyone’s self-preservation instinct kicking in. If people knew where the danger lay, they could guard against it. But at that moment, Xiao Shu hadn't even seen the weapon that had flown toward the robber; the man’s head was already gone, his body and mind disconnected. The only way to defend against such unseen threats was for everyone to gather together, using each other’s eyes to watch their backs. Only then could one hope to survive. Thus, even though there was no war, no plague, and no earthquake, people huddled together in shelters, like tortoises withdrawing into their shells, refusing to move even a single step.

With that thought, Xiao Shu turned and headed toward the small alley in the back streets. Anyone who experienced two robberies on the main road and chose the same path immediately afterward was either an idiot or suffering from a severe lack of oxygen to the brain.

Xiao Shu had walked down this alley before; it led directly from his current location to the entrance of the housing complex where he lived. The alley itself was narrow, barely two meters wide, such that a tall person standing straight could touch both walls with outstretched arms. As a child, he often walked there side-by-side with Yingzi, their shoulders pressed against each other, vying to see who could push the other against the wall. Yingzi always won, not for any other reason than if her clothes got dirty, she would be severely scolded by Madam Nangong when she got home. Xiao Shu could never bear to let her suffer such indignity. Recalling these memories now felt like a world away. Xing’er was already born; what use were these thoughts now? Xiao Shu felt an involuntary sadness well up inside him.