Unspeakable

Chapter 4 Pain and Discomfort

Zhang Yang was anxious, and asked Mu Chen, "That's your...Mu Shaonong's voice!"

"Yes." While speaking, Mu Chen stretched out his hand and quickly grabbed Zhang Yang's arm with frightening strength, the joints protruding obviously.

Zhang Yang looked at Mu Chen's serious face: "Good boy, I'll go and have a look, or you can go back later."

"Good? Are you going to die?" Mu Chen still held on to him, "Don't mess around."

"Then..." Zhang Yang hesitated to speak.

"I told you not to mess around. I won't go either," Mu Chen said, "It's very troublesome."

"……it is good."

Ten minutes later, Zhang Yang was lying on the table and doing his homework emotionally.He felt that there must be something ulterior in Mu Chen's family, and it might be really troublesome, even Mu Chen would hide it from him...

"What are you thinking about?" Mu Chen twirled his pen.

Zhang Yang was taken aback: "I didn't think about anything."

"You can't hide things in your eyes, kid," Mu Chen smiled softly, "Is it because of what happened just now?"

"..."

Mu Chen sighed: "Xiao Yang, I want to tell you something. I know my affairs and Mu Shaonong's affairs best. You'd better not get involved. If I need your help with something, I won't be polite. .”

"Okay." Zhang Yang was a little discouraged suddenly.

Mu Chen grinned and stroked Zhang Yang's hair: "The puppy is so good."

"Wangwang!"

After dinner, Zhang Yang was washing the dishes in the kitchen. He said, "Xiaochen, why don't you go home and have a look."

Mu Chen turned his head to look at him quietly, picked up the teacup and took a sip of tea.

"The woman left just now, I heard it."

"That's fine." Mu Chen stood up while supporting the rocking chair, "I'm going back."

"Okay," Zhang Yang came out with a rag, "Tomorrow I estimate that I will go to school half an hour earlier. Our volleyball team has to hurry up for training. There will be a competition soon."

"It's okay, I'll be early too," Mu Chen squeezed Zhang Yang's shoulder, and Zhang Yang looked very warm holding the rag, "I'm leaving."

"in vain."

Mu Chen took out the key and opened the door of his own room. A smell of cigarettes came to his nostrils, and he frowned.

The door was opened a crack, and Mu Chen saw that the tiled floor in the living room was full of stubbed cigarette butts.Something must be wrong, he thought to himself.

He pushed open the wooden door inside the anti-theft door, and the wooden door opened with a creak. Mu Shaonong suddenly rushed over with a cigarette in his mouth, and slapped Mu Chen across the face.

Mu Chen's body swayed violently, touching the wall behind him.His face was burning with pain.He raised his head and stared at Mu Shaonong.

The goosebumps on Mu Shaonong's body fell off, he was not afraid of Mu Chen crying, or even running away, but he was most afraid of Mu Chen looking at him as if nothing had happened.Mu Chen's eyes were still calm, but not clear at all, pretending to be an indescribable hatred.

Mu Shaonong picked up a magazine on the coffee table, and slapped the magazine on Mu Chen's face: "Tell me what the following line is about!"

Mu Chen glanced at the magazine. It was a poem published by Mu Shaonong. It was all about the reincarnation of the soul. Ordinary people would find it incomprehensible, but Mu Chen could understand it.

There is a line below the poem: If anyone wants to handle the above business, please contact the author himself.

Below is a line of numbers, Mu Shaonong's mobile phone number.

Mu Chen sneered: "You are crazy, Mu Shaonong."

Mu Shaonong threw the butt of the cigarette on the ground and twisted it hard: "Did I fucking send this?"

"Who the hell." Mu Chen's tone was cold.

"You..." Mu Shaonong's face turned green, "I posted this?"

"Nonsense, can I post it?"

"Don't be fucking stupid! Actually, you have a good sense! You little bastard, don't be ignorant..." Mu Shaonong slapped Mu Chen on the other side of his face.

The corner of Mu Chen's mouth was scratched by Mu Shaonong's exaggeratedly long nails, and a line of blood flowed out.

Mu Chen clenched his fists.

Mu Shaonong was pacing restlessly in the room, like a rebellious beast, muttering incessantly: "It's a mess, come to me if you can't fix it yourself! This is really troublesome It's..."

Mu Chen said slowly: "That woman is a family member, she died again."

"I didn't intend to make it public at first. Who knew that broken line... let others know. When the man called, I thought it was Lao Li, so I told him. I didn't think that the man would test his own life. Well, his daughter-in-law still came to see me and said she was going to call the police... What kind of reason is this! "

Mu Chen watched Mu Shaonong hit the sofa heavily, picked up a bottle of beer and took a sip, then walked into the bedroom with crutches.

His face was in severe pain, and a trace of pain seemed to be transmitted to the lacrimal gland through nerves, as if a tear was about to fall uncontrollably... Mu Chen stood by the window, clenched his fists tightly, chanting in his heart over and over again :

Mu Chen, you like wolves, do you remember why?It is a dog that cries because of trouble; it is a wolf that burns away grievances and sorrows with hatred...

Yes, this is the difference between wolves and dogs. I like wolves, so I want to be like wolves.Mu Chen, you live for hatred, you must firmly remember it.

You have forgotten the little bits and pieces of warmth before, and you can no longer forget the hatred.

Then you really are the walking dead.

He took out the key to open the drawer, took out a thick book from inside, and turned to the last page.

The front and back of this picture are covered with red dots, and each red dot is marked with a date, densely packed.

He picked up a red pen and drew a small dot immediately below, writing today's date.He estimated that there are more than 800 dots in total.

Mu Chen smiled, his smile was no longer as pure and clear as Zhang Yang saw, but sly, weird and chilling.

He turned to the middle page of the book again, and wrote on it, Mu Shaonong slapped me twice today, and I was wronged.

After finishing writing, he found that more than half of the thick notebook had been used.He smiled wryly. If he saves money, he wonders if he can use it to his death.

He flipped through the pages quickly, and the lines of words were fleeting before his eyes, but left an instant impression. "He beat me up again" "Live to hate" "I'll let you die" "He hit me" "Take the hate to the coffin" "Kill you" "See you miserable"...

Half a large book was flipped through, and Mu Chen's eyes immediately fixed on the first page.

It was a line of words written in pencil, a short sentence, but three of them were pinyin.This style of writing is immature but very familiar, and this line of writing...seems very familiar.

My leg is gone, it's so uncomfortable.

Mu Chen quickly closed the notebook with a snap, feeling a twinge of pain in his heart.The memory of this line of writing seems to be far away, yet close at hand. Every time he sees this line of writing, there seems to be a sharp pain passing along the fingers caressing the book, making him unable to breathe in pain.

help me……

Are you my father...

Who are you……

I feel terrible……

I can not stand it any more……

I feel like I'm dying...

At that time, Mu Chen was only four years old and could write some simple characters just now.I don't know what's going on, he doesn't know the word "pain" very well, he always says "discomfort".He has a strong tolerance for pain since he was a child. Only when the pain is unbearable, he will say softly, "I feel uncomfortable".

But the memory of that day is so clear and deep, his pain is simply too light to express it as "uncomfortable".

The heating pipe rang a few times, pulling Mu Chen out of his memories.He closed the notebook, hooked the corners of his mouth upwards, and still had a clear, childish smile on his face.

He moved to the window, opened the window and looked up, and saw Zhang Yang leaning out from the upstairs window and looking down.Zhang Yang saw him and waved at him.

"Xiao Chenchen," Zhang Yang said with a smile, "Lend me to copy the language matching workbook."

Mu Chen tugged on the pulley between the two floors. This pulley was designed by him and installed by Zhang Yang: "Little Afro, don't you have any snacks today?"

"I just got it done today, handsome." Zhang Yang quickly brushed his short hair with his hands, "Wait a while, I'll get it."

Mu Chen smiled, took out the language matching exercise book from his schoolbag, and caught it on the rope set by the pulley.

Zhang Yang has been used to giving snacks to Mu Chen since he was a child. In the past, he knocked on the heating pipe to inform Mu Chen, and then hung the snacks down with a rope.But since he dropped the snacks downstairs three times in a row and fell to pieces, Mu Chen asked Zhang Yang to install this pulley with hooks and clips hanging on it.

Zhang Yang often delivers snacks to Mu Chen through this pulley, and Mu Chen often delivers homework to Zhang Yang.Zhang Yang hates doing liberal arts homework the most.

Zhang Yang poked his head out again, holding a food plastic bag in his hand, and while clipping it on the clip, he rushed down and said, "Xiao Chenchen, today is your favorite Avantisu..."

"Ah?" Mu Chen was stunned, "The development of new products is so fast."

"Isn't it your favorite food?" Zhang Yang dragged the pulley slowly, "So forgetful."

Mu Chen took the food plastic belt in his hand, opened it and looked at it, couldn't hold back his joy, and rushed to it and said, "What do you call this?"

"Afantisu, what a wonderful name."

Mu Chen was so happy that he couldn't straighten up, he sank into the easy chair and shouted out of the window: "Ti-la-mi-su!"

"Ah, yes, I remembered wrongly." Zhang Yang was also happy.

Zhang Yang has never been interested in snacks, but he always remembers that Mu Chen likes to eat tiramisu and ice cream, and don't sprinkle with ground peanuts...

The setting sun shone on Zhang Yang's head, putting a layer of gold on his hair.For a moment, Mu Chen's gaze was a little erratic, and it was the first time that he felt the word "nuanrongrong".

Author's Notes:

When I write this chapter, I always want to sigh.Alas, as I write, I don't know who Mu Chen's prototype is... I can't tell if it's me, at least here (patting chest), I'm pretending to hate.

Isn't it hypocritical, little Ding Ding.

In my last essay I wrote that I am very interested in the self-awareness of the dead and the living in a narrow sense, so let’s talk about it this time.

Human beings have stronger self-awareness than other animals, and they are all clear.Have you ever wondered why so many people each have a distinct sense of self?But why does everyone firmly believe that there is such a "myself"?

Is it because no one's brain is built exactly the same?So if two people have exactly the same brain structure, will their self-awareness be exactly the same?That is to say, there are two conscious "I"s in the same person.

In the biology class, the teacher said that large-scale human cloning is not allowed, because social ethics will be lost, that is to say, the distribution of property, marriage, and the relationship between parents and children will be disordered.But if my assumption above is true, does it mean that cloning will increase the chances of two people having the same self-awareness?

Suppose further that, under normal circumstances, the brain structure of a dead person is not the same as that of any living person.If the brain structure of a dead person is exactly the same as that of a living person, is it what we call "resurrection from the dead"?Or to put it more unreliably, "soul reincarnation"?

Or, if one person's nervous system can be transplanted into another person's body at will, is it the legendary "soul shield"?

Am I thinking too much?I really don't understand...

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