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"I've. Had. Enough." said Old Zhang one word at a time, on the brink of a meltdown.


Guo Li didn't understand his reaction, so he said, "Alright, the three of us will take our garbage out, you... take your time."

It was as though Old Zhang didn't hear Guo Li's voice at all, he focused all his energy at starting at Bo Yan.

"It was you, wasn't it?" He sounded stern and boisterous.

Bo Yan was truly scared by that. Stunned, he looked to Guo Li and I for help.

"Mr. Zhang, you are drunk," I said warmly.

"I am not drunk!" Old Zhang was about to lose control, he shouted, "He was the one who set me up!"

"What.... what did I do! You are making shit up!" Bo Yan jumped up.

Old Zhang was outraged, his instant to attack was about to overpower the self-persevering nature of a peeping Tom.


Yes, turn on each other.

This only sped up the development in my script.


"Ka, ka, ka, ka, ka, ka, ka, ka,......"


The crisp clacking of a stiletto coming down the stairs in an uplifting pace resounded abruptly in the apartment in the middle of the night.


With every clacking sound, all four of our hearts starting beating in unison with the same damned, undisguised rhythm.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up up down down.

In an oddly synchronized way, as though conditioned, us four newbie in the field of disposing of dead bodies slowly turned our heads around.

A slim shadow pointedly made a turn around the stairs, after the "ka, ka" sound, a faint noise of an heavy object being dragged across the floor.


Four Adam's apple rolled, each of us swallowed.


The one going downstairs was Ying Ru.

A meddler.

A spontaneously extra actress.

Stiletto, a light blue dress, a thick coffee aroma twirling around from between each crisp step; the jet black long, flowy hair made her face seemed even more light-skinned and smooth.


I took a deep breathe.


Vaguely.

I thought I heard a light, soft, silky, and thin voice, giving me an indescribable pleasant feeling.

But when I tried to focus on listening to the faint sound, I was not able to find the source of it. The almost non-existing sound was like a magical tune, it dissipated my smugness. I want to barricade my heart but I couldn't help but hum the strange melody.


From a distance, Ying Ru smiled at us warmly from the staircase.

The smile from a beautiful woman made the four of us smiled back mechanically. All of us swooned by the melody.

Then, we noticed that she was dragging a big, black plastic bag in her left hand as she slowly descended the stairs.

The creepy part was that the bag was so unusually heavy that Ying Ru wasn't able to to lift it up, she just casually dragged it behind her, not concerning herself with the fact that the bag was banging against the stairs and making an audible banging noise every step of the way.

The banging noise was unpleasant to the ears, but oddly in tune with the melody in the air. Not only did it not seem out of place, it added a melancholy feel to the melody.

Also because of its weight, the friction between the floor and the stairs caused a small rip on the black plastic bag, leaving an indescribable yet vigorous and forceful red calligraphy mark on the stairs and floor.


Dumbfounded, the four of us looked on as Ying Ru casually walked through our group, her elegant pose made us held our breath.

It was when her hair briefly touched my nose when I realized the melancholy melody came from Ying Ru; she has been humming ever so lightly.


It was only after Ying Ru disappeared from around the corner that we started slowly recover from the disorientation between the real and the surreal.

Looking down, the ostentatious red fluid trail did not disappear with the tune that Ying Ru was humming, it extended all the way to the end of the hallway, the continued down to the second floor along with the banging sound.

Right after that, I heard the metal door on the first floor being opened, a crisp "ka, ka" noise continued to echo in the dark alley in the middle of the night.


The piper entered a cave, and the giant rock silently blocked the entrance.

The horrible fable of how thousands of children from a village never saw the light of day again.


I blinked, rocking back and forth in the dim hallway.

Was I hallucinating?

The song was too pretty and too faint, I seem to vaguely remembered the sight of half a head with two pencils quietly protruding from the sockets through the crack on the bag.


The four of us made no sound for a long while. We couldn't tell you when the tension from the before disappeared, neither did we know what we could do.

It was as though we had lost a lot of our natural senses?

Such as excitement, fear, terror, nausea, pressure, anxiety.


"Let's go?" I broke the silence after a long while.


Letting out a foul breath, Old Zhang nodded silently.

With no extra verbal exchanges, everything lightened up.

Lightened up so much that none of us were progressing toward our original goal.


"That song was beautiful," said Old Zhang looking somewhat lonely.

"Yes," I agreed.

"Any one of you know what that song was?" asked Bo Yan.

"I think it's Gloomy Sunday, Gloomy Sunday?1" Guo Li was the most knowledgeable, it looked as though he wanted to elaborated on it but finally said nothing.


Nonetheless, nobody asked anything else about the song.

Everybody went back to being silent.

In the silence, Gloomy Sunday crawled its way back into my head, slowly wrapping around every inch of my nerve and emotion. Like the abyss of an ocean, I could only sink, sink, and sink.

From the endless sinking, the elegant movement of Ying Ru's limbs, banging noises from the corpse, clanking noises from the heels, rich aroma of the coffee, a blurry silhouette, two pencils stabbing into eye sockets.

All the elements resonating with each other perfectly, continuously.

Without interruptions.


We didn't know who took the first step.

But, Guo Li picked up one third of Ling Hu, Bo Yan also picked up one third of Ling Hu, and I picked up one third as well. The three of us slowly made our way down the stairs. And Old Zhang picked up little miss Wang, who died entirely too young. The four murderers swayed on, no words were necessary.


"What's that stench? Oh my God, why do you all take out your garbage in the middle of the night?"

Miss Chen opened the door, an empty glass water jug in her hand.

She frowned and complained when she saw our procession.


We looked at each other, but right when we were about to continue on downstairs, I suddenly somewhat wanted to kill Miss Chen.


"Ah Choo,"

I sneezed, dropping the plastic bag in my left hand.

Ling Hu's head rolled out from the loosened bag.

Sounding like a bowling ball, it rolled all the way to Miss Chen's feet.

Miss Chen's pupil dilated, her chest lifted.

She was just about to let out a loud screen when Guo Li, Bo Yan, and Old Zhang all rushed up and six arms frantically tried to cover up her nose and mouth.


No disorganization, no heaving breathing.

One second, only one second, the water jug from Miss Chen's hand was placed on the floor in one piece.

You looked at me; I looked at him; he looked at you; you looked at her. It.

Guo Li placed the two plastic bags down onto the floor, Bo Yang picked them up, grabbing two bags in each hand.

I picked up Ling Hu's mischievous head and placed it back in the bag and reknotted it carefully.

Guo Li picked up the shapely Miss Chan.

We went downstairs together, opened the door, piled into Guo Li's car, and started it.


"Where to?" asked Old Zhang who had the plastic bag up around his chest, oblivious to the fact that little miss Wang's hair had already came out of the bag.

"I know of a place," Guo Li steered and stepped gently on the gas paddle.

Nobody disagreed; everybody sedating on their own.


The night became blurry.

The building, no longer twisted, but vast and empty like Nocturne in E Flat Major.


xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


We never saw Ying Ru again after that day.

Like a ghost, she disappeared from the 2AM back alley with the corpse she was dragging.

I kept the room for her. She has the keys, she could return any time.

She could bring back new toys, or take away the foul-smelling foul suitcase, or any of the huge suitcases.

This would always be your home.


Two days later, Old Zhang was the first to move away.

The note he left on the living room table said that he found a nice little room, and thanked us for everything we've done for him during his stay.

I ate the note in order to memorialize our profound friendship.


Bo Yan was the next to move away. Before the moved he picked up smoking, and sighing.

Someone capable of being sentimental, or willing to pretend to be sentimental, was a sign of growing up.

For that, I wish him all the best.

One afternoon, I ran into him at one of my frequently-visited fast food restaurant while he was placing an order. We chitchatted for a little bit and that felt good.

But I have never seen him again after that.


It didn't matter whether Guo Li moved away or not. He was never here all that much, nor did he has a lot of possessions. I planned to clear out his room for him after his lease was up.

During this time, Guo Li and I took care of all the questions from the regional manager of the convenient store, school teacher, representative from human resource, routine investigation from the cops. Piece of cake.

After the gloomy Sunday, Guo Li left behind fifty thousand dollars. How interesting.

That I didn't eat to memorialize our friendship. I planned on using them to upgrade my equipment. They would allow me to see more and see clearer, and also hear more and broader.


I think, the next batch of tenants would have even more fun.


For Rent:

Small suites. $3,000 a month (negotiable). Male or female.

Other amenities include kitchen, washer, dryer. Communal refrigerator, living room, rooftop access, elevator, and broadband internet.

I can be reached 24 hours a day.


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1. Not a mistake on my part. He said it twice, once in English and once in Chinese. :D

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Random translator's note: They sure sell some sturdy black, plastic garbage bags in Taiwan....

This book has a epilogue after Chapter 13 that was every bit as long if not longer than 13. I am starting to think that the author made an extra long chapter 13 just so he could end the book on chapter 13.... I will try to slowly translate epilogue to wrap this up as well.

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