Visiting Bodhisattvas when a crisis is looming may seem like a desperate attempt to seek random medical help.
However, Qing Chen felt that this supernatural phenomenon on his arm should indeed be addressed by supernatural beings.
As far as Qing Chen was concerned, worshipping wouldn't put him at a loss anyway.
He preferred to take care of preparations beforehand, leaving no room for regrets.
The time was 9:30 PM.
Qing Chen sat on his bed, looking down at his phone. The bedroom was lit only by this faint light, and WeChat had only a few words sent from his desk mate, Nan Gengchen. There were no messages from anyone else.
The quiet WeChat avatar of his mother, Zhang Wanfang, made Qing Chen feel a bit lost.
Of course, it was just a slight feeling.
He didn't even know what he was expecting.
Actually, he didn't blame his mother.
His father had gambled away several properties, was involved in domestic violence, and even cheated. Qing Chen didn't think there was anything wrong with his mother initiating the divorce.
On the contrary, having seen his father hit his mother, Qing Chen even felt happy about his mother's decision.
Because it was the right thing to do.
On the eve of his parents' divorce, his grandmother tried to persuade his mother not to go through with it: "How can you, a woman with a teenage son as a burden, ever remarry? Who would marry you again?"
Hearing all this, Qing Chen chose to live with his father when his parents divorced.
He remembered his parents' astonished expressions, but Qing Chen knew it was the right choice too.
Now that his mother had started a new life and formed a happy new family, Qing Chen might feel a bit lost, but he was still very careful not to disturb her.
Countdown 2:31:12.
Suddenly, Qing Chen thought of a question: if these were the last two and a half hours of his life, what should he do?
This question was both serious and romantic.
Because it asks you what you truly want to do in your life, but haven't yet gotten around to doing, or haven't dared to do.
Unexpressed love, people you want to meet but haven't met, places you want to visit but haven't visited, words you want to say but haven't said—they all fall within the scope of possible answers.
This question cuts straight to the heart.
Qing Chen got up, put on his jacket, and chose to leave the house again with little time left on the countdown.
He pushed his broken bicycle out of the house and rode towards his destination.
The autumn night wind was a bit cool, and there were fewer and fewer pedestrians on the road.
Riding on the bicycle, Qing Chen's expression was calm, his coat flapping in the wind on the bridge.
He indeed had many regrets in life and many things he was afraid to do.
But tonight, he needed no cowardice or fear, just courage.
At one point, Qing Chen thought that if he was to die tonight, he should finish what mattered most as there was no time left.
First, he went to Peony Grand Hotel, then to Los Angeles Grand Hotel, and finally to Luo Yin Residential Area, but he couldn't find the person he was looking for at any of those places.
Qing Chen rode his bicycle through alleys, sped across the Qi Li River Bridge, and arrived at the foot of a residential building.
When he saw the familiar broken second-hand motorcycle parked downstairs and heard the sound of mahjong playing from the second floor...
He picked up his phone and dialed "110," "Hello, officer, I would like to report a gathering for gambling at Longteng Community, LuoJian District, Building 17, Unit 2, Apartment 201."
The officer on the other end of the line seemed stunned for two seconds, then responded, "Okay, we'll arrange for the police to dispatch now."
It wasn't until then that Qing Chen felt relieved, turned around, and rode his bicycle back home.
His mind was clear.
At home, Qing Chen glanced at the white pattern on his arm, countdown 1:02:21.
He began to reevaluate his preparations.
Wait, should he face that moment at home?
Qing Chen had once seen a horror film where the protagonist encounters something filthy, resulting in a ghost finding him every midnight.
The protagonist tried hiding everywhere, even in the deep mountains, but the ghost always found him.
At that time, Qing Chen wondered why the protagonist didn't go to a crowded place.
Although ghosts were formidable, people generally felt safer in crowded places.
For instance, the protagonist could stay in a nightclub where at midnight, when ghosts come knocking, hundreds of people would be shaking their heads to the roaring music, making it seem like the ghosts should be more afraid...
So Qing Chen began to wonder if he should also go somewhere crowded?
Or he could just head to the White Horse Temple in Los Angeles City… After all, there were bodhisattvas there.
Not only Guanyin Bodhisattva but also Manjusri Bodhisattva and Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva.
It seemed very safe.
However, Qing Chen eventually chose to stay at home, feeling that, compared to demons and ghosts, when the countdown ended, zombies or similar creatures were more likely to appear.
If that happened, going to a crowded place would be no different from seeking death, and besides, bodhisattvas didn't really handle such affairs.
Qing Chen had already prepared supplies at home, so if zombies truly attacked, he could still hide at home for a while.
Countdown 00:31:49.
In the last half-hour, Qing Chen turned on the desk lamp and silently wrote a will, leaving it on the desk.
If he died today, perhaps one day his family and friends would read his final words.
If he didn't die, then his life might be transformed into a whole new world.
Countdown 00:00:12.
After finishing the will, Qing Chen sat up straight, clutching the Boning Knife tightly in his right hand. His clear eyes suddenly narrowed.
The closer it got to the last moment, the calmer his emotions became.
It was as if a tsunami paused just before swallowing a lone island, with no undercurrents stirring beneath the sea, only deep thoughts and fierce courage remaining!
10...
9...
8...
7...
6...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1.
No ghosts, no zombies, no disasters.
Qing Chen quietly watched as time around him froze, his cellphone seemingly stuck forever at 12:00:00.
The second hand on the wall clock suddenly stopped ticking, and the light outside the window no longer flickered.
He stood up, and the frozen time seemed to shatter with his movement, the world in his eyes fracturing like a broken mirror.
Qing Chen, holding the Boning Knife, looked around. There was no desk, no room, only darkness remaining.
Then, he too was engulfed by the darkness.
...
Time seemed to pass indefinitely, yet it felt like only a moment, and suddenly Qing Chen lost all concept of time.
In the darkness, shards of the world began to piece together again, forming a brand new world from unknown fragments in an instant.
Qing Chen lay on a narrow, hard bed in a completely unfamiliar environment he had never visited before.
He first looked at his palms, empty, the Boning Knife long since vanished.
Then he looked at his arm, only to discover that the white lines there had changed.
"Return countdown 48:00:00."
48 hours, or 2 days, Qing Chen pondered.
The next moment, the countdown ticked a second: Return countdown 47:59:59.