C6 (2/2)
But this uncle came to pick me up in the morning, and the head teacher said that he was a colleague of my father's …
I thought back to the details of the morning. No, all the head teacher said was: Your dad's colleague is waiting for you downstairs.
But it didn't say he was!
When I met him on the stairs, he said he was here to pick me up, so I just followed him.
If it was a colleague of my father's who came to look for me at school, he would definitely know my name and class before he could find the form teacher to notify me.
But he just asked me what my name was.
The polo shirt comforted me while making me strong and took care of my mother and Shuyue.
He even knows Shuyue, he knows our family so well, but he doesn't know my name?
As I was thinking, the polo shirt suddenly turned around and looked at me.
”What are you thinking about?”
I didn't say anything. I glanced out of the corner of my eye and saw that the car was already in an empty spot.
”Uncle, I want to go to the toilet.” I gripped my bag. As soon as he stops, I'll run.
”No, you don't want to go to the toilet. I, I, stop, car, you, just, escape.”
The polo shirt looked at my face and said word by word.
West Eighth University, exactly as I thought it would be. Are all junior high students so easy to guess?
”You, and the things in your schoolbag, must be left behind.” The polo shirt said slowly.
Just then, my BP vibrated again. I took it out and saw that it was Shuyue's message.
I handed the BP machine over. ”Shuyue has information for you.”
The polo shirt didn't even look at it. ”Read it to me.”
I took a deep breath and read it word by word:
”Let, it, look, B, P, machine, such as, pass, no, look, east, west, eternity, far, take, no, to her, name, character, is …”
I looked up at my polo shirt.
At that moment, I felt a slight hesitation in my polo shirt. I glanced at the BP machine, and a reflexive hand reached out to grab it.
I slammed the BP into his face, and my colleague grabbed the steering wheel and shot it to the right.
”Bam!” With a sound, the entire front of the car flew out of the street and knocked over the electrical circuit integration box on the roadside.
The driver's side crashed the hardest, causing the entire door to cave in. Half of the glass on the driver's side shattered, and the head of the polo shirt hit the steering wheel.
The bag in front of me shielded me, and although I was prepared to pull the wheel, it was also spinning.
My forehead must have cracked, because I felt blood trickling down my brow.
But I didn't have time to wipe, so I picked up my schoolbag and ran out to the car.
A hand grabbed the strap, and I was already half out of the car when the force threw me into the passenger seat.
I turned my head. I swear I've never seen anything so weird in my life.
The air bag on the driver's seat popped open and his polo shirt was stuck in the seat. His left hand was broken by the impact of the sunken door.
His head hit the front windshield and his forehead was bent.
But the most terrifying thing was that even though he was severely injured, he didn't seem to even feel pain.
His face was expressionless.
It was exactly the same as the Uncle Wang from earlier!
That was not the expression of a living person.
The polo shirt held on to my bag belt with what looked like the only movable right hand, and a voice came out of my throat that didn't sound human:
”You. Yo. Yo. Yo. Name. Word.”
F * ck, a person has already been knocked into this state. Shouldn't they be saying 'you can't escape' or 'I won't let you off even if I become a ghost'?
Why did it come out as the classic three questions of the male and female duo's first encounter?
”Where are you from?” ”Who are you?” ”What's your name?”
But I didn't have time to think about it. I tore the bag open and the contents immediately filled the car.
I grabbed my art knife and cut off the strap, then jumped out of the car and ran all the way.
It wasn't until I got on the bus that I felt a little better.
The BP machine in the car had already been sacrificed as a grenade against my polo shirt, I recalled the last message Shuyue sent me.
”Let her see the BP machine. If she doesn't, she'll never get anything. Her name is …”
This was the full text.
Shuyue must have realized that something had happened after seeing that I hadn't returned for so long.
Actually, both Shuyue and I were betting on whether he would be distracted when he heard the message.
If I get distracted, I have a chance.
From this message, Shuyue seemed to know what the polo shirt and Uncle Wang wanted.
The first sentence, let it see the BP machine.
This one used the inhuman one, not him. The messages were all on call and then told the operator to text it to the operator. Every message I've received before, no matter what content the operator defaults to be the person next to him.
It must have been Shuyue's special instructions that allowed the operator to use it.
Then what exactly is ”it”? Could it be that the polo shirt was a Uncle Wang, or a ghost?
A ghost could bask in the sun? Body temperature? The fracture was bleeding? You need a key to open the door?
But I don't deny that they are not normal. I don't know what's wrong with it.
”If you don't, you'll never get it.”
For Shuyue to be able to say such words, proved that she knew what this was and knew where it was.
This isn't the package I'm holding. Since the polo shirt already knew the package was in my bag, I went to check the BP machine's message. This meant that apart from this package, there was something more important.
The other possibility was that the bundle in my hand was only a part of this ”item”, while the other part, Shuyue knew where it was.
I looked down at what I was holding in my hand. My father's shirt had been torn to shreds, and his shirt was uneven.
I gently stroke my father's clothes.
The feeling of the package was undoubtedly a book, but no matter how curious he was, he could only open it to see Shuyue.
”Her name is …”
That was the end of the text. She was the one beside the woman.
I thought to myself, what the polo shirt and Uncle Wang wanted to get must be related to a certain woman, or maybe what they wanted to get was in a certain woman's hands.
But if so, just leave a message saying ”she's” or ”she's here”.
Who this person was wasn't important, but what was important was her name? They must not know her name.
Thinking about this, I trembled with fear. When I escaped from the car, every word of my polo shirt sounded like the dry sound of a few hundred years old man:
”You. Yo. Yo. Yo. Name. Word.”