The structures in this locality appear rather plain and dated. This dormitory is situated in Longhu New District, Tuodao. In other words, the original inhabitants of our entire community originate from similar backgrounds.
Laboring in like occupations results in everyone possessing comparable respite intervals. When the cyclic routes of commuting to and from toil are synchronized in a uniform fashion, daily living undergoes comparable nodes: there is the din of motorcycles starting at seven in the morningtide, and the “chug chug” that initiates one after another – the heavy panting sounds of engines inaugurate a bustling day, transporting children to schools or independently proceeding to work, all bring the edifices throughout the community alive in an instant.
Moreover significant is the low iron railing enclosing fence, which is adjacent to the school, linked end to end with the community, comprising nearly half of our community. It commands our lives: the school bells are automatically played, irrespective of weekends, the vigorous and loud peals urge and ring proudly each day as if indicating the hours.
There is no necessity to worry about complaints from inhabitants of the community, the sounds are natural and justified.
At eventide, after the bell rang signalling the conclusion of evening self-study, the night also dispersed. The scents of fireworks from each abode should also rest, and the lights in the community gradually faded. The amateur hipster band downstairs also consciously vanished after the ringing. The ringing rendered them punctual and conscious in observing some invisible constraints. This group of retired pedagogues will miss those having to commence toil early on the morrow.
As soon the most renowned band in the community ceased, the chatter accumulated at the concierge suddenly broke out. There were ever a few individuals stationed there, entering and exiting, or having tea and conversing in their spare time. Abruptly, they could be heard distinctly.
But this was the terminus, they required not gazing at their timepieces, they also felt it was getting late, and retired to repose one following another. Even in summer, if they persisted in cooling off at the concierge, their voices would be lowered significantly. The drawing room of my abode faces the concierge, and the luminescence in the drawing room ought to be extinguished. As the light faded away, inhabitants could inhale and urge their children to slumber. The transitional period between radiance and darkness is to activate a warm bedside lamp. The dim gleam could mirror the actions preceding falling asleep, and also proclaims the murkiness that is about to sink into the prolonged night.
Darkness and slumber are almost synchronized.
The snoring had weakened and my husband and children had fallen asleep. I toss and turn nightly, always striving to detect a method to induce myself to fall asleep. The hour for reading had passed, and even a little bit of light is a disturbance to others. Reclining on my back, hearkening to the voices outside, the concierge’s voice also faded into the night. I hypothesized the concierge brother had taken a nap. Despite the community entrance having been secured, the pedestrian entrance adjacent it would also be closed in the middle of the night. Occasionally when a motorcycle entered and exited, the din of the motor was very loud, allowing me to discern the heading of the motorcycle each time.
Even the sounds of motorcycles were completely mute, that is, the entire world was falling asleep.
The world was asleep and I remained awake alone.
I was in bed, listening to voices from all directions.
There is a spacious open area at the junction of the rear of our community and the playground of the technical secondary school, irrespective of the state, simply suitable for the natural solar phases. In reality, this is a rare natural place, where weeds proliferated, and spring and summer coincidentally constitute the world of insects. Frogs call and insects sing, and Xin Qiji’s poems are also interpreted here. On a sunny summer nightfall, after the lights were extinguished, there were whispers, and it must have been the pupils who sneaked out to socialize and converse about affection. It’s pleasant to possess youthful vigor, and the coolness outside retains them all from slumbering less. Those tranquil voices could sustain the entire night.
Gazing down from the bedroom window is the motorcycle shed of our community. The motorcycle enclosure crafted of iron panels borrows the railing of the boundaries at the junction of the two communities. On the contrary, it is not as faraway as our own community, and it is very transparent, except that individuals cannot enter and exit, cats, canines, mice, etc. can pass through unimpeded. The view can also be unimpeded, procuring nourishment, cookery, and walking the canine are all shared.
The lights of the adjacent settlement under the nighttime, they were inside the abode, and the angle of my viewpoint from above did not necessitate adjustment. If it matched the timeframe, the contiguous human fireworks would be exhibited. Human voices could penetrate windows and walls and attain our ears.
In the middle of the night, there were one or two feminine voices scolding the offspring; there was a unexpected cry of a child, which was very immature; there was a cough that pierced through the night from some window, and it gradually weakened. The neighborhood on the opposite side ultimately sank into the night, despite the public lights outside were connected with the city, upholding the whole night.
But the descending curtain of light in every window relates the world that they are one with the night.
Only me, despite the lights at home have been extinguished, my mind was illuminating my own world.
I could hear “creaking” outside, and the outside I was referring to was naturally outside the bedroom window, it could be our neighborhood or the neighborhood across the street. I couldn’t help getting up quietly from the bed several times, standing at the window and looking out.
The sound was obviously originating from the motorcycle enclosure below. From time to time, cats leapt over the railing or from here. The level motorcycle enclosure is the land where cats trod at nightfall.
There was a “bang”, if you maintain your eyes in time, you will see the vigorous figure of the large cat dashing to the earth.
At this moment, following the projection of the peripheral light from the lights outside, what I saw was a figure of a person. They were crouching on the motorcycle enclosure. After all, the human figure was more conspicuous. Enormous, particularly the projection of the light in the distance, the face was sunk in the darkness, but the outline of the figure was clear. Individuals are individuals and cats are cats.
The cat will not remain on the motorcycle enclosure for long, unless it is spring, and a companion will “fist” on it together. It was not an ordinary sound, it would yell unscrupulously and render the whole night restless. The cats on the roof are usually just borrowing the pathway. Our two communities, like the grassy open area adjacent to them, are the same domain in the eyes of cats. Cats with climbing abilities possess a much better life here than canines. They easily pass through the railings, fly over the motorcycle enclosure, large trees, low walls, and man-made amenities cannot halt them.
But the domineering canine in broad daylight is robust on the exterior, particularly the seemingly brave body is confined by such a few iron railings and has no method to do it. The cramped appearance of being a hero is pointless, and it can only be found in the community. Barking incessantly to indicate its existence.
Now the dog is naturally fastened and asleep. The figure on the shed really startled me. If you saw someone leaning on the roof in the middle of the night, you wouldn’t be much calmer than me.
It’s not that I’m too valiant, it’s just that I suddenly couldn’t recover from such a black lurking figure. It seems to be “expected” by me: the sound from the night will be surmised by me as the source – a person or a cat, and a wild conjecture is “there is a thief”! Because I couldn’t fall asleep, my mind tracked the sound all the way, suspicious, I got up from time to time and stood by the window to spy. Of course, what I saw was the slippery shadow of the cat, or the trembling motorcycle enclosure after the cat jumped, or nothing at all. A mass of blackness left a lingering sound.
At this moment, the figure was on the motorcycle enclosure, not far from the window of my abode. All the lights in the abode were extinguished, but I still stood by the window, allowing the curtains to shield me. The light outside was only projected to the motorcycle enclosure. I was naturally concealed by darkness in the unit, and I was still a little frightened. I quietly pulled the heavy curtains over, and the whole person was engulfed in the chaos of curtains.
That humanoid figure has been crouching on the motorcycle enclosure, as if awaiting an opportunity, how did they stand up just now? It is feasible that they entered the adjacent community, and then endeavored to sneak into our side. Although the movement was tranquil, the sound of people’s mass falling on the iron sheet was unavoidable and dull after all. No surprise the sound of the motorcycle enclosure I heard just now was much heavier than usual.
It seems that the noises of cats and mice over the years have been in vain.
I turned around, shook my sleeping husband, and whispered to him: “There are thieves! There are thieves!” After being shaken awake, he stretched his back and turned around before falling asleep again.
I shook his shoulders hard, lowered my voice and continued to say to him: “Hey, there are thieves outside!”
Now he was really woken up by me, tried to open his eyes, and said a burst of anger: “Nonsense! Don’t sleep yet!” He closed his eyes, turned around and fell asleep again.
I was afraid that if his voice was too loud, the man crouching outside in the carport would hear him. In fact, it was my needless worry. The sound from outside came in with subtle details, but it was not equal. The general sounds and whispers at home would not be transmitted to the outside. But I couldn’t wake him up by shaking him in such a “low-key” manner, not to mention that the inertia of his thinking extended into his sleep, and he probably thought that I had been doing boring things.
I continued to hide in the darkness by the window and looked towards the carport, but when I looked again I found that the figure was gone.
I was taken aback. He has already slipped down and landed. There is no doubt that he must have sneaked into our community. There is only one concierge in our community, the management is relatively strict, and it is staffed by the same system. The situation of each family is basically clear and clear. Even when a relative comes, everyone will find “different”. The adjacent community is a commercial building, and the concierge’s management is also very loose. It has been stolen several times! He came from there, and his target was our community.
This nightcrawler has entered our neighborhood.
I am now full of energy and have abandoned sleep, the “enemy” in the tug-of-war. what to do? I didn’t dare to go to the living room, so I had to sneak back to the bed and sit leaning on the edge of the bed, thinking about how to deal with this situation. The small needle of the pendulum clock on the bedside table is ticking, and the sound is loud and clear. It penetrates everything in me, and it is waiting for me to do something.
I started to look at it. I had never seen you sound so clearly when I had insomnia before. You are helping me count the seconds tonight!
After thinking about it, I still had expectations for the sleeping big man in front of me. I shook him and lowered my voice and said: “This thief should be in our community. I don’t know which house he entered. Do you want to call the police?” Sneaking in in the middle of the night is nothing more than that. Breaking into and stealing things. There have been several break-ins and thefts in the neighborhood in front of me. I was very frightened when there was a police car.
The person I shake does not shake his train journey: snoring like thunder, “whirling” rolling, and then gradually quiet, and again and again ups and downs, again and again, from low to high, then low…
This time the dense sound came from downstairs.
The cry first came from the innermost corner of the community, and soon the sound of hurried footsteps joined in, and soon all kinds of noises started downstairs, and the voices of people began to roar, and the door opened heavily with a “bang”, and they ran up to the balcony The sound of looking around, the sound of running from upstairs to downstairs, all kinds of voices rushed: “Quick! Don’t let him escape!” “Keep the door tight!” “Quick! Quick”!
I grabbed the soft air-conditioning blanket on the bed and threw it around me, and hurried to the living room. The large window of the living room faces the main door and the other buildings in the community. Looking down from the window, the concierge is suddenly filled with people. People from each building keep putting on their clothes and running downstairs to the concierge, “dong dong dong dong” The sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs from near and far away.
I know I caught a thief. The shadow in the dark place is exposed to the sun. What does it look like? male? Needless to say. old? young? ugly? Thief, through the ages, many professions have been constantly screened out along with the historical trend. Only if it has passed through the dynasties and dynasties, where there are people, there will be him. into it.
I happily returned to the room, threw down the air-conditioning blanket, put on my coat, and saw my husband sitting up with sleepy eyes. The noise outside was really loud. It was the kind of dense drumbeat sound from top to bottom. I turned to him and said, “There are really thieves! I’ll just say it!” I left him and sat there.
I rushed downstairs, and there were many familiar faces standing downstairs. They were all wearing pajamas or coats, and many of them were looking dazed. An open space opened up in the middle of the crowd: a young man was lying on the ground, motionless. The clothes on his body are white. He is young and relatively thin. It seems that he is not injured, but he is lying completely motionless as if he is dead.
I was taken aback, and looked at the people around me in a blink of an eye. Those who came first were talking, and told those who came later, “I have called the police.” Everyone was just watching for thieves and waiting for the police to arrive.
But he won’t die, will he? I was particularly worried. I asked the group of people I was familiar with and half-familiar with. Most of them didn’t look up and looked down, but it was rare to say a word. Now, everyone is familiar with each other, and they are whispering, but they just discovered the ins and outs of this person at the beginning.
The words in my heart got stuck in the quagmire, and I dare not tell everyone: In fact, I discovered him since he was lurking on the carport in the middle of the night. The detective didn’t seem so bright. But now I am more concerned about the boy on the ground – he is a young man, why did he “die” on the ground? Anyway, call an ambulance! I found out that I said so.
A voice around me answered me: “I called earlier.”
“It was the police who called me!” someone added.
But why haven’t you come yet? I was suddenly very worried and felt sorry for this young man on the ground – he was like an ignorant child, why did he come in and steal! I was really worried that he would die before the ambulance came.
“Why hasn’t the ambulance arrived yet?” I asked, and someone in the crowd looked at me, and then turned their heads to continue talking. I walked out of the crowd, worried, and turned back to the crowd and said, “Don’t hit him!”
I left the crowd downstairs and went upstairs. The person lying on the ground is the dark shadow I have been entangled with for most of the night. The light of the day makes him appear, and the face on the ground cannot be seen clearly, and the detective of Sherlock Holmes has come to an end. It’s just that my mind is still crawling in the dark: If I found out in the middle of the night and deliberately alarmed him, would he run away? That should just scare him and make him run away. The shadow in the darkness was completely different from the dressed young man in front of me. The shadow that made me tangled up in the middle of the night appeared in the public like this, and my fear turned into pity.
Breakfast was busy upstairs, and a series of processes had been completed downstairs. Those who needed to go to work went to work, and the audience at the concierge returned to their own tracks.
Everything goes its own way, like thieves in the night, crawling on the roof while everyone is asleep, while the insomniac watches from the window.
Everything that was confirmed during the day inspired me to brave the thorny journey at night. The detective role that insomnia has transformed me into is unfolding…