"While I was working," he began slowly, his voice imbued with boundless sorrow and a sense of weariness, "my child lived with me at the construction site. One day, he ran off to play and passed by a dump truck. He was so young, without any awareness of the danger around him, he didn't even notice the peril..."
The truth emerged as an unfortunate accident, and my heart twisted painfully in response.
"He was killed," Xu Ze's voice quivered slightly, and then he continued, "The driver was a fellow villager. The night before, he had been up all night playing cards. The next day, when he was driving, he was so exhausted that he fell asleep at the wheel. If only he had been a little more alert, he could have easily avoided my child... But he just slept through it. When I got there, I was completely shattered. I went mad, climbing onto the dump truck and pulling him out. His saliva was still dripping onto his clothes..."
At this point, he forced a bitter smile, one filled with helplessness and regret.
"Don't blame me for not knowing how to speak, but honestly, I envy you," he suddenly said out of nowhere.
"What..." I instinctively responded, confused and full of questions.
"You ask if I can blame him?" His voice seemed to address me, yet also questioned himself. "In the end, it was my own fault. I wasn't careful with my child. I was so fixated on making more money, thinking that if I just gave him enough money, everything would be fine. I brought him to the site, let him wander around carelessly, without a second thought..."
He paused for a moment, then spoke again. "You still have someone to take revenge on, but as for me... even if I wanted revenge, I wouldn't know who to blame. Should I blame the driver? Or should I blame myself?"
"Living like this in such a muddled way, I guess I'll keep living this way, aimlessly, without purpose..." His voice grew softer and softer, eventually trailing off as if lost in deep, unshakeable memories.
The call had not ended, and we both fell into silence. The only sound was the faint rhythm of our breaths through the receiver.
The oxygen in the bottle was growing thin, almost depleted, and I had to take shallow, careful breaths every few seconds, trying to make it last just a little longer.
But the suffocating air in the coffin made sleepiness take over, and my eyelids grew heavier by the second.
I summoned the last of my strength, attempting once more to reach for the oxygen can, but my fingers trembled uncontrollably, too weak to press the spray button. I tried again and again, but it was all in vain.
My eyes began to roll back, my consciousness fading. Just as I was on the edge of unconsciousness, I thought I faintly heard him calling my name in urgent distress from the other end of the line...