Cave exploration, any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental.
Playing arcade games isn't free; it requires money. I seem to have embarked on a path of crime.
Digressing#
After finishing writing, I realized I had rambled too much and only provided a general context. After writing this, I found that this cave exploration hadn't even started yet.
Then, a different location with various scenes is like the method of the memory palace; thinking about it is like seeing it, all kinds of past events are pulled from the brain's database, like the classic flowing subtitles in The Matrix, those letters in English might not be so clear, but this Chinese feels deeply engraved there, with a tactile sense of bumps and grooves.
Let me talk about my cousin. His studies were average, and he went to a vocational school. His family believed that food is paramount, so he studied culinary arts, not cooking specifically. I really forgot the exact name. At that time, it was popular to have guaranteed job placements, and he went to study because of that. After graduation, he was assigned to a five-star hotel. Don't think it's all glamorous; the kitchen was on the first floor, and sometimes there was a small stove in the basement, with no windows and stuffy air. They didn't provide meals or accommodation, and there was a lot of work. The guests were picky, mostly wealthy nouveau riche, and the salary was fixed, but there could be complaints and fines, with no bonuses. He took a bus for half an hour or longer to get to work. Those with connections went to the cafeteria in government offices, where everything felt like a secure job, and some even opened their own restaurants. Let's not talk about him anymore.
At this time, I was about 11 years old, in the fifth grade. My younger brother was also 9.5 years old.
Because I didn't like watching TV, as there was too little content, and I didn't have cable, I enjoyed climbing onto the roof and tinkering with homemade antennas. I also illegally tapped into cable TV using a long enough wire, which caused others to be unable to watch TV normally. Later, when the repairman came, he found out the problem was the wire I connected. (I didn't check why this happened.)
I had finished reading all the books (there weren't many), and I generally didn't stay at home. My cousin hadn't graduated yet; he was still studying at the vocational school.
There was a middle school near my home, which was my playground. Normally, we played soccer, table tennis, badminton, and when I was in elementary school, I didn't like basketball. We also climbed over walls, sometimes several times a day; climbing walls was considered standard exercise. Why not use the front or back door? If the gatekeeper didn't change, then every time we saw him, he would probably want to beat us up.
Sometimes the school would clear out students, and we would play hide and seek with the old man. The most tense moment was when I was about to be caught, maybe more than ten meters away. There was a square platform, about 3 meters on each side, nearly two meters high. Actually, there were other places to run, but in a moment of desperation? My brother and I gestured to each other, meaning to go up. My brother was confused; I wanted to speak, but I quickly made a shushing gesture. He understood, and I pointed up, mouthing the words without sound, meaning I would go up first and then pull him up. My brother was much stronger than me (the name Armstrong suits him), and he squatted down to let me step on his shoulders. He did a deep squat, and I could already see the situation on the platform. I also saw the old man's head disappearing, but I instinctively lowered my head to avoid being discovered. I realized that I had to crawl on top and couldn't stand up. I quickly crawled up, but awkwardness struck; my weak upper body couldn't pull my brother up. He was using his feet against the edge of the platform, and I couldn't contract my biceps. I also couldn't shout for help. I gritted my teeth, my face turned red, and I imagined pulling him up, but my arms felt like they were in a cast, unable to move. What to do, what to do?
I thought that if I couldn't get up, we would have to part ways and run separately; it felt like there were only a few seconds left. Although time felt like solidified lard, it was more like bullet time.
Just then, my right arm hurt sharply a few times, and then my head was yanked hard, feeling like my neck was about to snap.
In a flash, my brother was already half-crouched beside me. Perhaps due to the pain, my vision seemed blurry, but my mind was still relatively clear. I looked at him, not using the word "crawl," but rather simple terms like "lie down." He didn't understand; he was already in that position but not low enough. I quickly gestured on the platform, making a covering motion, then opened my palm, repeating it about twice. My brother understood and lay completely flat.
While doing the above actions, I found I could control my arms, at least they weren't dislocated, and then slowly retreated towards the center of the platform, to a similar position. We both remained motionless, with the sunset's afterglow casting on us. I noticed our shadows on the platform, almost extending beyond it. This shadow made me nervous; should we move or not? Would the sun continue to set, causing our shadows to be exposed, or if we moved now, would our shadows shift and make noise, revealing us? In the end, we remained still.
The old man had reached the vicinity of the platform, and my heartbeat had no time to adjust. His footsteps were much slower than my heartbeat, and the sound of my heartbeat drowned out almost all other sounds, with only the old man's footsteps and mutterings, as if some technology had extracted them. The old man circled the platform twice? Then he stopped. I wondered if he felt we were circling him? Then he stopped to listen for sounds? Then quickly, half a circle counterclockwise, half a circle clockwise?
I really wanted to laugh; I lowered my head, pressing against the platform, and I realized the platform was warm. This abnormality drained my motivation to laugh.
The old man muttered something like "grandson of a turtle" and slowly walked away.
I relaxed a little, recalling how my brother got up. Originally, it was with both hands, but I couldn't pull him up. Then he had a moment of inspiration, using my right arm as a rope hanging down. He alternated his left and right hands while pushing off the wall with his feet. In the end, he even grabbed my neck, and his feet hooked onto the edge of the platform. I suddenly realized this was no different from climbing over a wall.
Now, I can't remember whether there was a statue on that platform or not; I have no impression of it at all. If I have the chance to go back, I should take a photo and match it with a picture.