the art of naming the night

Chapter2 Countdown

A middle-aged woman looked at the old man: "Uncle Zhang, why is Sergio coming to play chess with you again?"

Uncle Zhang's tone was less polite: "You ask me about your own son? He's out of living expenses, can only earn a little money for meals by playing chess."

The middle-aged woman, Lenora, was stunned for a moment: "But I give his father Sergio 's living expenses every month."

This left Uncle Zhang also taken aback: "Then I don't know what's going on."

Uncle Zhang pondered, Lenora Zhang was not poor, and it seemed that the living expenses she provided for Sergio were not small, but why was the young man still living so tightly?

Sergio Q. didn't seem like a wastrel, living his days counting every penny, never even sipping a drink.

"Shouldn't he be at evening self-study at this time?" Lenora zhang asked.

Only then did Uncle Zhang remember: "He seemed to say he was waiting for someone."

"No, I have to check back at home," said Lenora zhang.

As she was about to leave quickly with the cake, she suddenly heard the man beside her say: "Lenora, today is jack's birthday, we've already made a reservation, and after eating, we have to take him to see a movie!"

Lenora Zhang turned to look at the man: "Sergio might have skipped class, I can't just ignore it."

"He's seventeen, he should be able to take care of himself, besides, he has his biological father," the man said, then softened his tone: "Actually, it's also okay to visit him on the weekend, shall we accompany Jack today first?"

After hearing this, Lenora Zhang frowned but ultimately sighed: "Alright, let's accompany Jack for his birthday today."

In the shaded path of the municipal government's family courtyard, Sergio Q. walked silently under the camphor trees.

Different from the high-rise building style of modern cities, the courtyard was filled with four-story low-rise buildings from the 1970s, without elevators or gas, and the sewer would sometimes get blocked.

Large power-consuming appliances could not be used at home because they would trip the circuit breaker.

Sergio Q. entered the dimly lit entrance, ignoring the wall covered with lock-picking and house-selling ads, and took out his key to open the door of the first-floor apartment.

The 76 square meter apartment had two bedrooms and one living room, with very poor natural light on the first floor.

He took out his mobile phone and made a call: "Hello, Dad..."

The voice on the other end interrupted him: "Go to your mom for living expenses, I have no money, she's quite rich now."

During the conversation, the sound of playing mahjong could also be heard from the other end.

"I don't want money," Sergio Q. said softly, "I haven't asked you guys for money for a long time."

The man impatiently said, "Going to a parent-teacher conference again? Go to your mom for that kind of thing..."

Before the other person could finish, Sergio Q. hung up the phone this time.

He leaned gently against the door, lowering his head to lift the sleeve of his school uniform.

He stared blankly at the white numbers and symbols on his forearm, like a liquid crystal display screen: countdown 5:58:13.

The white numbers looked like glowing tattoos embedded in his flesh and skin, and no matter how he rubbed, he couldn't erase them.

Upon closer inspection, Sergio Q. saw that the numbers contained special and intricate patterns, like mechanical parts meshing with each other.

The numbers silently changed, as if emitting a mechanical meshing sound of "click-clack".

Countdown 5:58:12.

Countdown 5:58:11.

With only 5 hours, 58 minutes, and 11 seconds left, everything seemed to remind Sergio Q. that something incredible would happen when the countdown ended.

Sergio Q. glanced at the hung-up phone and then at the empty room.

He was unaware of what life had in store for him in 5 hours and 58 minutes; he only knew that he could only rely on himself.

Time is a heavy unit of measure, marking the length of life and the breadth of civilizations.

The concept of time permeates everyone's existence.

Thus, whenever a countdown begins in one's life, it invariably brings a sense of urgency.

What does this countdown lead to?

Danger, perhaps?

Or maybe a different kind of life?

Sergio Q. couldn't be sure; he could only prepare for the worst.

So, he had to get some things ready before this countdown ended.

If danger was indeed approaching, he wanted to ensure that, within his capabilities, he had some means to protect himself.

Sergio Q. donned a clean, grey jacket, using the hood to shadow his face.

Under the cover of night.

He headed towards the agricultural market, in the city of Luo, where the October sky darkened early.

Sounds of cooking emanated from residential buildings, the explosive sounds of vegetables and oil colliding, followed by enticing aromas.

Eggs, pork, lamb - these scents, like streams of information, flowed into Sergio Q.'s mind, to be 'archived' for the day he might need them.

He bought pliers and a shovel from a hardware store, a bag of rice and a bag of flour, along with salt from a grain and oil shop.

He also purchased several boxes of antibiotics from a pharmacy and batteries, a flashlight, and compressed biscuits from a supermarket.

Faced with the unknown, he could only prepare as best as he could.

These items nearly depleted all of Sergio Q. 's savings.

After bringing his purchases home, Sergio Q. went into the kitchen and placed all available knives in the most accessible spots around the house.

A cleaver under the pillow, a boning knife on the nightstand.

Countdown: 2 hours, 43 minutes, 11 seconds.

He double-checked that all doors and windows were securely locked, then sat on the bed to ponder: should he seek help?

But whom could he turn to?

His mother had a new family, and his father was a gambler.

In fact, when Sergio Q. noticed the countdown appearing on his arm just a few hours earlier, the 17-year-old's instinct was to seek help from his parents.

But he quickly dismissed the idea.

Sergio Q. took out his phone, attempting to take a photo of the white countdown on his arm, only to discover that the white lines, clearly visible to his naked eye, did not appear on his phone's screen at all.

Such bizarre and preposterous occurrences made it clear that seeking help from ordinary people would be futile.

Wait, an idea seemed to strike Sergio Q.. He got up and started rummaging through the living room.

Two minutes later, he silently observed the Guanyin pendant in his hand, carefully placed it in front of him, and devoutly bowed nine times.

The final preparation was complete.