blueteamnovel Chapter 22, Step 1
Chapter 22, Step 1
Revitalizing this store...
Lin An stood on the second-floor corridor, holding the key in his hand, his brows furrowed.
Old Zhao had already gone downstairs; his footsteps creaked on the wooden stairs before disappearing in the direction of the convenience store.
Doraemon peeked out of the room, his round eyes blinking:
"What does this mean?"
Lin An put the key in his pocket and continued checking the room, saying without turning his head:
"Who knows? Since you're not saying anything, it's not important."
"But..." Doraemon wanted to say something more.
Lin An squatted down and inspected the connection of the cast iron heating pipe in the corner:
"The prerequisite for helping others is that you are doing well yourself. What we need to do right now is to settle down first, and then we will be able to help others."
Doraemon nodded, seemingly understanding but not quite.
After checking the infrastructure and confirming that the water pipes were not leaking, the heating was working, and the windows were closed tightly, Lin An went to check the small room next door.
For Doraemon, who is less than 1 meters tall, 3 square meters of space is enough, and even has considerable redundancy.
Move the folding table over to use as a workbench, and nail several shelves to the wall to store repair tools and parts.
Doraemon is afraid of the cold, so leave space next to the radiator, or if all else fails, just build a "nation-destroying furnace," since the principle isn't complicated anyway.
"It's alright." Lin An dusted off his hands and turned to go downstairs.
Old Zhao was sitting behind the counter, reopening the Beijing Evening News.
Hearing footsteps, he raised his eyelids slightly but didn't say anything.
"Uncle Zhao, I've reserved the house."
Lin An walked to the counter. "When can we move in?"
"at any time."
Old Zhao took a bunch of keys out of the drawer, removed two of them, and pushed them onto the counter.
"This is the main key. It won't be replaced if you lose it, so please keep it safe."
After taking it, Lin An paused for two seconds, then tentatively asked:
"Can I change the lock cylinder on the second floor?"
Old Zhao glanced at him and snorted:
"what ever."
He wasn't very happy. Well, it's true, being inexplicably guarded against is indeed unpleasant... Lin An muttered to himself, taking out a wad of banknotes from his pocket and spreading them on the counter.
Five-yuan notes, ten-yuan notes, and one-yuan notes were stacked together in a crumpled mess, like a pile of waste paper just picked up from a flea market.
Old Zhao glanced down and his lips twitched.
"Count them." Lin An pushed the banknotes in front of him.
Old Zhao didn't move, but looked up at him and asked, "Didn't your dad get you a larger one?"
Lin An remained silent.
Old Zhao didn't care. He picked up the money, quickly counted it a few times, and soon confirmed its authenticity and the amount.
After counting the money, he gathered it into a stack, secured it with a rubber band, and stuffed it into a drawer.
"Moving tomorrow?" Old Zhao picked up his enamel mug and blew away the foam.
Lin An shook his head: "Today."
Old Zhao was somewhat surprised. "Is there enough time?"
Lin An smiled and said, "Moving things is the easiest thing for us."
Old Zhao nodded slightly: "Then you can help me move things from now on."
Lin An: "..."
This is not the answer I wanted!
……
……
Lin An was indeed not lying.
With his "four-dimensional pocket," moving was surprisingly easy for him and Doraemon.
A person and their cat found a time when no one was home and packed up all the necessary items to take with them, including but not limited to:
Bed sheets, blankets, pillows, change of clothes, toothbrush, towels, slippers, thermos...
Lin An was responsible for rummaging through the cabinets, drawers, and shelves, and stacking the items on the living room floor.
Doraemon squatted down beside him, stuffing the items into his pocket one by one.
Half an hour later.
Lin An stood at the door, taking one last look at the home he had lived in for eighteen years.
The walls were grayish-white, the door frames were peeling, and there was a half-empty bottle of AD calcium milk that Lin Meng hadn't finished on the coffee table in the living room.
The screen of the old-fashioned color TV on the TV cabinet was covered with a thin layer of dust, and the remote control was pressed under the Beijing Evening News.
Lin Yi's room door was closed, and a faded rag doll was hanging on the doorknob. It was her favorite doll when she was a child, and even though she no longer played with it, she hadn't taken it off.
His own room...
Forget it, I won't look at it anymore, it's empty anyway.
Lin An withdrew his gaze and said softly:
"I'm leaving."
He turned around and closed the security door.
The stairwell echoed with the crisp sound of the latch snapping into the keyhole before falling silent.
Doraemon stood at the corner of the stairs, holding a half-empty mooncake box in his arms, looking up at him.
"Let's go," Lin An said.
Doraemon nodded seriously.
A person and a cat went downstairs, walked through the alley, and arrived at Dengshikou Street.
"What are you planning to do next?"
"make money."
Looking for a job?
"Write screenplays and earn royalties."
"Keep going, I support you."
"Thanks."
As they exchanged questions and answers, the figures of the person and the cat slowly disappeared into the crowd until they were no longer visible.
……
……
The next morning.
Zhang Hua carried a thermos into the office and sat down by the window.
Sunlight streamed through the glass onto the table, illuminating the open "BJ Morning Post".
He flipped to the entertainment section and his eyes fell on overseas reviews of "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon".
"Teacher Zhang."
A young photography teacher, surnamed Zhou, peeked in through the doorway. He was in his early thirties, wearing black-rimmed glasses, and holding a brown paper envelope in his hand.
"Someone brought you something early this morning." Teacher Zhou walked in and handed the envelope to the table.
Zhang Hua glanced at the envelope; it was beige, unsigned, with only one line written in the center:
For Teacher Zhang Hua
He squinted, feeling that the handwriting looked familiar; he had seen it recently.
"Who sent it?"
Teacher Zhou shrugged: "It's a literature student. I asked him what it was about, and he said he'd show it to you and you'd understand."
Zhang Hua picked up the envelope, rubbed his thumb along the seal, and didn't rush to open it.
"What kind of student?"
Teacher Zhou thought for a moment, then gestured:
"He's quite tall, a little over 1.8 meters, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt. He's pretty, but he's a bit of a snide talker."
Zhang Hua paused in his hand movements, and then a slow smile appeared on his lips.
Seeing this, Teacher Zhou asked curiously, "Do you know them?"
"We've gotten to know each other."
Zhang Hua didn't explain much, tore open the seal, and pulled out a stack of A4 papers.
The papers were folded neatly, with not a single crease on the edges.
The first page features four large characters centered on the page:
"Internet Addict's Diary"
……
……
HD District, No. 15 Wanquanhe Road.
A gray office building stands on the street, its glass curtain wall reflecting the glaring afternoon sunlight.
Lü Xiaopin pushed open the glass door on the third floor. The corridor was covered with a gray carpet, which made no sound when stepped on.
He walked to the office door at the end of the corridor, took a deep breath, and knocked three times.
"Come in."
Lü Xiaopin pushed open the door and entered.
Yingda sat behind his desk, wearing a dark blue polo shirt, looking down at some documents. Hearing the noise, he didn't look up, but instead pointed to the sofa:
"sit."
Lu Xiaopin sat down in the chair opposite the desk, with only half of her bottom touching the chair surface, her back ramrod straight.
Yingda wasn't the only one in the office.
Sitting on the sofa by the window was a slightly overweight middle-aged man, Ye Daying, the producer of "Internet Addict's Diary".
He was holding a copy of the Beijing Evening News, flipping to the entertainment section, and didn't even look up when he heard the noise.
Lu Xiaopin bowed slightly to Ye Daying, who raised his eyelids in response.
On the other side, in a folding chair, sat Lin Cong, the co-director.
She was wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, her short black hair was casually draped over her shoulders, and a notebook was open in front of her, filled with dense writing.
"Now that everyone's here..."
Yingda placed the cigarette on the table, leaned back, crossed his arms in front of his abdomen, and said calmly:
"The matter of 'Internet Addict's Diary' needs to be settled today."
Lü Xiaopin straightened his back, and his breath caught in his throat for a few seconds.