When initially planning the accident to kill the man, Mu Zi, lying on the iron bed, inadvertently saw the broken ceiling fan above him, and then, inspiration struck…
Now, Mu Zi desperately needed that flash of inspiration again, but it was stubbornly elusive.
The old wooden door, the twisted jujube tree at the door, the stone path, the sewer, the park, the breakfast shop, the route to work, a traffic light, the factory gatehouse.
The places where the boss was predictable and could be monitored by Mu Zi were just these. Although these locations seemed vast, for Mu Zi, who needed to stage an accident, they were too confined.
After experiencing a storm last night, the temperature was very low. Mu Zi, still wearing his long-worn thin clothes, didn't feel the slightest chill. From the boss's house to the park, then to the factory entrance, Mu Zi walked the route over and over again, observing and pondering as he went. Passersby, in a hurry, did not notice this troubled youth, nor could they understand his thoughts.
It had to be a fatal accident, and it had to be done without anyone noticing, appearing as a pure accident.
Every location, every object, had the potential to be part of the accident…
The flat house, the small courtyard, the smooth asphalt road outside, turning left after leaving the house, an old, crooked but still leafy jujube tree… The jujube tree?
Mu Zi clearly remembered, on his tenth round, the moment his feet stepped on the leaves torn from the tree by the wind and rain, that flash of inspiration suddenly hit him.
The jujube tree!
Mu Zi stood under the tree, squinting and estimating the distance between the jujube tree and the boss's front door. The road was narrow, flanked by courtyard walls on both sides of the tree, so he had to pass under it, and this tree was the closest to his house. After observing for several days, Mu Zi knew that the first person to pass here in the morning would definitely be the boss. And right above where he passed, there was a tree branch as thick as a man's leg. So when he passed under the tree, if the branch broke and fell, its weight with the branches and leaves would be enough to knock him to the ground... But how to ensure that the branch would fall at the right moment, hitting his head? Of course, he would have to tamper with the branch. Using an axe or a saw in the dark of night, it would only take a few minutes to do this, but the marks of cutting or sawing would be too obvious, clearly indicating human involvement. So, that wouldn't work...
How to cover up the traces of human intervention? Mu Zi twisted the hair on his forehead, pondering hard. Then, he saw the fallen leaves at his feet. Yes, the storm! Hadn't last night's storm provided just the right condition? A big storm had just passed, breaking one or two branches, hitting one or two unlucky people – it seemed very normal. If the branch broke completely, people would attribute the cause to the storm, unless a Holmes-like detective suspected human involvement. But how many such detectives were there in reality?
Was this fate? Even his first act of revenge had to be related to rain? Mu Zi couldn't help but wryly smile.
Then, the next question was timing. How to control the timing of the branch's fall without anyone noticing?
The branch wouldn't recognize a person; it wouldn't wait for the boss to walk under it before suddenly breaking…
Mu Zi thought for a long time and finally settled on a direction: the branch would have to be pulled down by the boss himself, not left to naturally break! Only in this way could it accurately hit him on the head.
But how to make him personally pull down this deadly branch?
Mu Zi again twisted the hair on his forehead.
Obviously, only if something on this branch, or the branch itself, greatly intrigued him, would he willingly pull it down.
There were no jujubes on the tree yet, and the branch wasn't a beauty or a bar of gold; it couldn't naturally pique his interest. Therefore, something had to be placed on the branch, something irresistibly tempting to him.
Money? For someone like the boss, money was the biggest temptation. If he walked under the tree and saw a hundred-yuan note hanging from the branch, nothing would stop him from pulling it down.
But it definitely couldn't be money; that was too illogical. No one would "accidentally" hang a hundred-yuan note on a branch.
The item had to be placed on the branch in a way that seemed accidental. Otherwise, it would be easily suspected.
So, what should this item be?
What could it be… This time, Mu Zi was stumped, his thoughts completely blocked. He painfully twisted the hair on his forehead, as if wanting to pull it out strand by strand.
It was like a thrilling movie that suddenly stopped at the most exciting and tense moment, leaving the screen pitch black.
He thought for a long time without any clue. One idea after another emerged, only to be dismissed – either they lacked allure or were too illogical.
Mu Zi helplessly shook his head, leaving the tree and slowly walking towards the stone path.
Then, he remembered another problem: even if the branch broke and fell at the right time, knocking the boss to the ground, if it hit him on the head, it might work, but if it just knocked him down… it would hardly be fatal, and the injury might be minor. If that were the outcome, what would be the point of planning this accident?
Two problems, like two mountains, heavily pressed on Mu Zi's head.
The sun climbed higher in the sky, the temperature gradually rose, and more people appeared on the streets, each seeming to sparkle with the bright sunlight.
Broad daylight. Suddenly, Mu Zi set aside the two difficult problems and thought of this phrase.
Under this bright sunshine, in this seemingly peaceful and beautiful environment, was he really planning such a scheme? Did that make him sinister?
Mu Zi squinted, stubbornly facing the strong sunlight in the sky.
The sunlight quickly stung his eyes, forcing him to close them involuntarily, and then, his vision turned pitch black. In this darkness, he suddenly saw many shadows: his mother's gentle smile, the man's occasional tenderness, the rare warmth of a family of three… Then the scene abruptly changed to the man's intense arguments with his mother, his stepmother's hateful eyes towards him, his mother's bony hands grasping his when she was critically ill, the slaps from the man...
Many shadows intertwined, then transformed into two bitter droplets, swirling in his eyes like the rotating blades of a washing machine, incessantly cleansing some impurities.
Finally, these two droplets overflowed, leaving two moist trails on his cheeks.
Then Mu Zi opened his eyes. After the baptism of tears, his gaze suddenly became unusually clear and profound.
He immediately noticed the electric wires above the jujube tree.