The Rescue Of The Tragic Villain Is In Progress!

A4 C107 - The Boy in the Dangerous Building

ARC 4

[I used to live in a dilapidated building for three years in order to collect materials for writing.

The dangerous building that is about to be demolished is home to people from the bottom of the society. They were poor, selfish, greedy, vicious, and finally died one after another in various grotesque ways.

In the end, only a boy in a wheelchair was left.

And I.

The police conducted multiple investigations and collected evidence, and finally eliminated the suspicion from us countless times.

On the last day of the third year, I finally packed my things and prepared to leave this dangerous place, when someone knocked lightly on the door, and when I opened it, it was the boy in the wheelchair.

I had seen him, but hadn't spoken to him, so I cast my eyes suspiciously.

The young man had a handsome appearance, and was wearing a clean and worn-out white top. His thin body couldn't support the clothes, and he looked a bit empty. A sunflower in a blue pot rests on his lap, quietly spreading its branches and leaves in the dust.

The young man smiled at me, with a slight sense of embarrassment and nervousness: "You don't remember me..."

I didn't speak, in fact I remembered him.

The young man tried his best to help me recall: "Three years ago, when you first moved in, I was pushed down from the wheelchair, and you helped me up...it was at the elevator..."

I remember the punk upstairs making fun of him by tripping over his wheelchair on purpose.

"You left a pot of flowers behind, I didn't have time to return it to you, and now it's blooming..."

I remember that when I first moved in, I bought a pot of sunflower seeds to decorate the room. Seeing the boy fall from the wheelchair, I subconsciously tried to help him, but I left it on the ground and forgot to take it with me.

Seeing that I was silent, the boy paused, and finally said only one sentence: "Thank you...for helping me up..."

His voice is very soft, like snowflakes falling on the warm palm, which will soon melt away.

"Also, I'll return this potted flower to you, it's very beautiful..."

The young man held up the potted flower and handed it to me, his arms exposed, with many old wounds that had healed.

I don't remember how I answered at that time, I just remember that I took the potted flower from him, and I never met that boy again.

Later, a police friend told me that he was dead. He said to me in a regretful tone: "He committed suicide the day before he was arrested. It's a pity that he's only in his twenties."

I was slightly taken aback because of the word "arrested".

"He was in a car accident when he was a child, his parents died, and his legs were disabled. His uncle took over the inheritance of his family, but he refused to treat the child's illness. He abused and scolded him for more than ten years. In the end, when the building was about to be demolished, his legs finally healed a little better..."