3 Picking Up Doomsday Girl 3

The stern-looking police officer stood before me, his bellowing like thunder that deafened and stunned:

"Zhuang Cheng, you've broken the law, do you know that!?

"That girl is a murderer with many lives on her hands, and not only did you hide guns and ammunition, but you also harbored and sheltered her!

"You're an accomplice, her co-conspirator!"

I couldn't bear to meet his gaze, hurriedly covering my ears, but when I turned my head, I saw both my parents standing behind me, their tone and eyes brimming with utter disappointment:

"We spent money to raise you, to put you through college, not to raise a criminal who disrupts social stability.

"Give up any hope, go to prison, and don't contact us again after you get out.

"We don't have a son like you..."

Friends too appeared before me, but upon meeting my gaze, they retreated, standing at a distance, their voices reaching me:

"Ah Cheng, I didn't think you'd really break the law...

"Don't tell anyone you know me in the future, I don't have a friend like you, I don't want to be implicated..."

Suddenly I was enveloped in darkness so complete I couldn't see my own hand, and then the light returned.

Under the dazzling lights, a judge loomed above me, declaring with a solemn and merciless voice:

"The defendant Zhuang Cheng harbored a murderer, illegally hid guns and ammunition, and is unrepentant. Given the gravity of his multiple crimes, he is sentenced to life imprisonment, to be carried out immediately!"

"!!!"

-

A sense of imbalance, a violent shock, pain.

I abruptly awoke.

But I wasn't in the familiar confines of my bedroom.

It took two seconds for my sluggish mind to catch up. Everything before had been a nightmare. I had fallen to the floor after turning over on the sofa where I'd been sleeping. This was the living room of my house, sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows, vaguely catching the sounds of city life.

It was daytime now.

Why was I sleeping on the living room sofa...

Right, last night I gave up my bed to the mysterious beautiful girl I had picked up from the streets... That part, at least, wasn't a dream.

I gathered my scattered thoughts as I stood up from the sofa, then immediately noticed the metallic object on it.

It was a handgun.

Last night, I hadn't gone straight to sleep in the living room but had been toying with the gun. Though I wouldn't go as far as declaring that "real guns and live ammunition are the true romance of a man," I was indeed deeply fascinated by it. Playing with the gun, I imagined scenarios of aiming and firing at imaginary adversaries, targeting the dining table, the refrigerator, the TV, and couldn't get enough.

I wasn't afraid of an accidental discharge; I'd often seen scenes in action movies where characters got into trouble for forgetting to unlock the safety on their guns. Despite my limited knowledge of firearms, it was the safety that had made a particular impression on me. Earlier, I had brought my laptop to the living room, and with the help of some information found online, I discovered that the safety of this handgun was already off, so I locked it.

No matter what, a real gun is a real gun, a terrifying weapon that can easily take a life. If I were found by the official forces in possession of firearms and harboring a dangerous murderer, the scenes from the nightmare might turn into a ruthless reality, eradicating my future in an instant.

No, no... it's not yet confirmed that the girl is a murderer; I know nothing about her.

How is she doing now, has she awakened? Maybe she silently left already?

I picked up the handgun and hid it behind my back, moving anxiously to the bedroom door.

The empty can remained motionless on the doorknob just as it had the night before, which gave me a moment's relief. I removed the can, then, like a character in a zombie game, silently pushed the door open and peered inside.

Fortunately, the girl was still in the bedroom, lying on the bed as unchanged as the empty can, her chest rising and falling rhythmically with her breath.

After a night, the blood that had stained her was no longer fresh, turning into a dark, dried, congealed substance.

If one could ignore the spatter of blood on her cheeks and her dirty, torn blue-and-white striped hospital gown, her innocent sleeping face seemed like that of a pure and cute girl next door, utterly unrelated to cruel and serious words like firearms, ammunition, murderers, and life imprisonment.

And after a night's sleep, my fervent emotions had cooled, leading me to contemplate the consequences of my impulsive actions.

I would never regret the choices I had made; that wasn't in my nature. My only unresolved concern was whether this girl could meet my expectations. What if her hidden secrets turned out to be not as incredible as I hoped?

Suppose, after her awakening, I asked about her past and she was willing to answer truthfully, only for the information provided to be intensely unremarkable, it would indeed be a letdown for the great risks I had taken.

Then, to protect myself, I might have to secretly dispose of this girl.

To secretly dispose of her... that I could have thoughts akin to those of an assassin.

Perhaps such secret measures would be futile. If the girl really was a dangerous character wanted by the official forces, my amateurish counter-surveillance skills would never allow me to evade their pursuit, and the traces left from last night might be enough for the official forces to track me precisely.