112: Chapter 112 Thirty-Six Return Tickets

In the half-day since the black tickets appeared, Jiangbei reported a total of twelve cases of "calls from the deceased."

Some received calls from disconnected numbers.

When some answered, all they heard inside were bus stop announcements.

Others heard a relative who had passed away years ago cough once and tell them to come home for dinner.

When Zheng Xiang slammed the third ringing mobile phone onto the table, his hands were trembling.

He was a coordinator for the Jiangbei East District streets, usually best at handling leaking hallways, lost seniors, and neighborhood quarrels. He remembered clearly which child in the shelter was a picky eater and which senior had high blood pressure. Yet, he never imagined that one day he would have to take mobile phones from people one by one and tell them that the person on the other end of the line might not be human.

"Brother Zheng, I just want to listen for one sentence." A woman in her forties grabbed his sleeve, her eyes extremely red. "Just one sentence. My husband didn't have time to speak when he left, but he called my name on the phone."

Zheng Xiang opened his mouth, not immediately reciting the rules he had memorized during training.

He saw a black ticket in the woman's palm. The ticket surface was damp, as if just fished out of water.

[ Liuxia Passenger Station · the first bus ]

[ Please wait for the bus in advance ]

"What is your husband's surname?" Zheng Xiang asked.

The woman froze.

"He."

"He what?"

"He Xinmin."

Zheng Xiang nodded, took the registration book from the table, and flipped to the page she had previously filled out.

"What did he like to eat?"

The woman's tears fell instantly: "He loved spicy food, but his stomach was bad, so the doctor wouldn't let him eat it."

"Then you sit down first." Zheng Xiang pressed the ticket under a paper cup. "Write down all these things about him. Don't wait for the bus alone tonight. If you really miss him, fill up a page. When you finish, I'll find someone to read it to you."

The woman stared at him, as if not understanding what use that would have.

Zheng Xiang lowered his voice: "The ticket wants you to walk over. Let's not let it win first."

The shelter was very quiet.

Some cried, some refused to hand over their tickets, and some hid their tickets in the soles of their shoes, thinking no one knew. Xu Minglan and Li Xi patrolled separately, the Fire Seal on their wrists glowing hot. The Lamp-Keeping Zone could only lower the broadcast volume; they could not decide for anyone. Whoever held the ticket, ultimately had to be the one to let it go themselves.

When Grey Net was compiling the list, Bai Ya stared at the screen twice.

"It's not twelve," he said.

Lu Chen looked up.

"We currently see twelve. There are twenty-four more that haven't been brought to light."

Wu, sitting in the corridor outside the observation room, turned pale after hearing this.

"It won't send them all at once," he said. "It sends them first to the people who want to board the most. The remaining tickets will find people on their own."

Bai Ya asked: "How do they find them?"

Wu did not answer immediately.

He looked at the surveillance screen at the end of the corridor, which showed Liang Cheng's delivery box. That item had been collected as ordinary personal effects next to the storage cabinet, the lid not closed tightly, with a pair of disposable chopsticks poking out.

"They find those who haven't had a chance to say goodbye yet."

Not long after these words fell, Liang Cheng's order number dialed into his family member's mobile phone.

It was his sister who answered the phone.

She froze for a moment, then stood up as if struck by something, her chair toppling to the floor. By the time Zheng Xiang rushed over, she had already dashed to the door, muttering incessantly that her younger brother was most afraid of being late and that she had to go pick him up.

Lin Zhao blocked her from the side door.

He didn't touch her, only handed over his own phone.

"Sister, look."

On the phone was a screenshot of Liang Cheng's last order. Less spicy, include an extra pair of chopsticks. The delivery address was not far from home, and under the remarks was a message Liang Cheng had sent to his sister: I'll bring you fried rice after work.

Liang Cheng's sister stared at the screen, crying so hard she could barely stand.

"He promised."

"I know," Lin Zhao said.

"He promised to bring food back."

"I know."

Lin Zhao's voice was not loud, but he did not try to dissuade her further. He simply stood there, letting her finish saying those words.

Outside the Lamp-Keeping Zone, the sound of wheels rolling through water approached from a distance. Everyone's breathing stopped for a moment. Zheng Xiang looked up at the glass door; outside, there was only a garbage collection truck turning the corner, the driver even poking his head out to curse about who blocked the intersection.

The tension that threatened to crush everyone was suddenly split open by that curse.

Zheng Xiang let out a breath and cursed back: "Take a detour!"

The driver drove off, grumbling.

Someone actually laughed out loud at a time like this, then cried after laughing.

At 9:47 PM, the first ticket holder went missing.

He Xinmin's wife did not leave the shelter.

The one who left was another man named Zhou Yuan. His father had passed away from illness five years ago and loved to take the last bus back to the old city area while he was alive. Zhou Yuan hid the ticket inside his clothes and, taking advantage of when the staff were handing out water to the children, walked out through the fire exit.

Surveillance footage captured him entering an alley without a bus stop sign.

The alley was very narrow, with closed repair shops on both sides. Zhou Yuan stood in the middle of the alley, as if waiting for something. He looked up and smiled at the empty air, his lips moving.

The next second, the screen flashed with static.

The person was gone.

Only one mud-stained shoe remained on the ground.

Grey Net added his name to the list.

Ticket holders: Thirty-six.

Entered the boarding sequence: One.

Wu stared at that number, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"It has started calling names."

Outside the Safe House door, the Guardian Lamp flame was blown by the wind to lean in the same direction.

Liu Bridge.

Bai Ya split the list of thirty-six people into twelve groups, rearranging them according to their place of residence, disappearance experience, and the degree of connection to the old Liu Bridge case.

Some people were not in Jiangbei.

One ticket had been mailed to a nursing home in the neighboring district, and another appeared in the seat crack of a night long-distance bus. They seemed to have legs of their own, walking out along phone calls, packages, old photos, and words left unsaid in memories.

"Don't just guard the Safe House," Bai Ya said. "The ticket doesn't recognize house numbers; it recognizes people."

Tang Zhiwei immediately added temporary shelters, and Zheng Xiang divided the street personnel into two shifts, going door-to-door through the night to knock on the doors of those on the list. Some cursed as soon as they opened the door, some hid and refused to be seen, and others hid their tickets in the deepest part of their wardrobes, claiming they hadn't taken anything.

Zheng Xiang did not force them.

He left a piece of paper at every door, with only one sentence on it: If you hear the sound of a vehicle, call out to someone first.

Before dawn, a callback came from the twelfth address corresponding to the paper.

After the call connected, there was no crying, only a little boy asking timidly: "Uncle, my mom said she's going to pick up Grandma. Isn't Grandma already gone?"

Zheng Xiang held the phone, looking up to see the streetlights outside the community going out one by one into the distance.

He knew that there was one more boarding point.

The shelter lights remained on until dawn. Zheng Xiang left the last empty chair at the door and didn't let anyone move it. He said this wasn't reserved for the person on the bus, but for those who had walked halfway and were willing to turn back.

Before daybreak, Zheng Xiang changed the water cup on that empty chair once. The rim of the cup was still steaming, and no one knew who it would eventually wait for.