Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1327: June 11th

Chapter 1327: June 11th

"Oops, I accidentally put too much soy sauce."

As Deng Yilan placed the last plate of cucumber and scrambled eggs on the table, she felt slightly embarrassed and cautious. "Try it, see if it's too salty," she said.

Han Jun expressionlessly picked up his chopsticks, picked up a piece of egg, and ate it. Then he picked up a piece of cucumber and glanced at her. "Sit down and eat."

"Not too salty?" She sat down, wiping her hands on her apron.

"Salty," Han Jun said as he ate.

And then? Deng Yilan waited a few seconds, suddenly realizing she was waiting for Han Jun to complain like her dad, "How come you can't even cook scrambled eggs properly."

She knew herself that the dish was not edible. She accidentally poured half a bottle of soy sauce and rinsed it twice with water, but it still didn't work. As a result, the eggs were soggy and broken. If she were home after her dad complained, her mom would immediately retort, "Then you cook it yourself." She was ready for it. Why didn't he react at all?

Han Jun looked up at her again. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing..."

After realizing it, Han Jun suddenly froze. "You cook for me, and you're still waiting for me to pick at it?"

That slight surprise, as if he had no idea that husbands often pick at their wives' cooking was a common thing. "Just having something to eat is good enough," he said, lowering his head and continuing to eat.

Deng Yilan couldn't help but smile and picked up her chopsticks.

Han Jun was always like this, in some trivial aspects of life, making her feel... how should she put it as if he was experiencing society for the first time. Not that he was naive or without cunning; he was quite presentable in front of others. But once he got home, he relaxed and revealed that as if he were a wild child just returning to society, not understanding many conventional things.

But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

The first time they met, Deng Yilan didn't want to go at all. The person introduced was a relative of her mom's colleague, and she didn't care if she declined. But once she passed thirty, her mom seemed to have gone crazy, eager to marry off anyone male who came home. Refusing meant an instant ugly face.

"You're about to get married now, and when you have children, you'll be considered an older mother... What do you mean you don't want to marry? A woman who hasn't married or had children in her lifetime, what's she called? I don't even want to go out with my sisters now. When they ask, 'Oh, she doesn't even have a boyfriend?' It's embarrassing!"

Deng Yilan felt either her mom had gone mad first or she had. But she was obedient since she was young—besides, going at least temporarily made her mom shut up.

But Han Jun was quite different from the average men his age on blind dates.

First of all, he had no sense of politeness at all.

For the first blind date, at least he could pretend to be polite, but he didn't. When he sat down, he said, "Do you like me? If you don't, I'll leave. I have food at home."

Who talks like that?

Deng Yilan reluctantly said, "Since we're here, let's eat together and get to know each other."

"What's there to know? I saw you as soon as you came in," Han Jun said, looking down at the menu. He almost appeared fascinated, as if the items on the menu were very peculiar. When he talked to her, it seemed like an afterthought: "You look so unenthusiastic."

Was it that obvious? She had behaved well before, and none of the previous blind dates had noticed.

"I don't like others sharing my food," Han Jun reminded her. "Let's order separately."

This person definitely wouldn't do, she decided to reject him when she returned.

As they silently ate halfway through the meal, she deliberately said, "I'm just a cashier with a low salary. I have no dowry from home, no car, just an old house my parents want to live in. I'm thirty-four this year and don't want to have children yet."

The last point always worked—she didn't really not want to have children; if she could get married, she would probably go along with the flow and have children later. But any man who heard this sentence would definitely back off.

"Oh." Han Jun inexplicably looked at her.

"Regarding marriage, you must care more about this, right?"

"Me?" Han Jun was stunned, saying, "The decision to have children comes from your body, so whether or not to have them is your decision. What does it matter to me?"

What's wrong with this person? Deng Yilan looked at him carefully—he didn't quite match the current handsome standards, with a square jaw and stubble. She used to not like men with a strong masculine aura, but now she seemed okay with it.

"And... economically?"

"You're talking about your family needing money, right?" Han Jun said matter-of-factly, "If we get married and are short of money, I'll go make some. Of course, you have to work hard too."

It's simply incomprehensible. That remark about making money sounded like something a thug would say. Deng Yilan sighed inwardly as she ate, determined not to see him again; but after a few days, when the matchmaker said Han Jun wasn't dissatisfied with her, she went to dinner with him again. The two rarely did anything else on their dates, just ate once a week. After eating more than twenty meals in a daze, she ended up marrying him in a daze.

It's hard to understand when someone is like this. Sometimes, she deliberately asked him, "Do you think I'm pretty?" If Han Jun was in a good mood, he'd just grunt. If not, he'd say, "Do you think I've never seen a beauty before?" Even if she knew she wasn't particularly beautiful, it still made her quite angry.

Like millions of others, they worked nine to five in their married life, did housework when they got home, ate, watched TV, chatted, and went to bed. But not long after they married, Deng Yilan realized that sometimes he would wander alone in the living room as if a wild wolf had been locked up in the zoo. He could only pace in circles like that after hitting the cage a few times and failing to move it.

"Have you ever thought about another kind of life?"

Sometimes, he would put down the old files in his hand—she didn't know why he liked to look at some past oddities— and say to her, "Go wherever you want, do whatever you want. Unless someone has the ability to kill me, no one can make me bow my head. Every day, the things and people you meet are new and different. And you know, there's a vast world out there, full of danger and vitality."

"Are you having a midlife crisis early?" Deng Yilan asked him, "It sounds nice, but do you have the money for that?"

Han Jun became visibly impatient but said nothing; he lowered his head and looked at his old files.

"What's wrong? Is it something at work?" She also felt that what she had said just now wasn't good, so she softened her tone and asked.

"It's nothing, same as usual. The people above decide, and the people below start going crazy. Today one rule, tomorrow another, all meaningless fuss." Han Jun seemed absent-minded and casually added, "I didn't realize when I was far away before, but now I find out it's not easy for you to be a good sheep."

What does he mean? Deng Yilan felt a vague sense of astonishment, but she didn't dare to ask further. Since that day, she realized that Han Jun's life wasn't particularly happy.

What about herself? Was she happy? Doing the same cashier job day after day, did she feel satisfied and cherish it?

With this confusion, Deng Yilan began to observe her husband. Although he spoke harshly sometimes, once threatening her, "If you keep talking nonsense, I'll knock you out," he rarely got angry.

Only once, when he helped her cousin take the child to school, did the child forget his student ID. At the school gate, the facial recognition system malfunctioned for some reason and couldn't let the child in. The school security refused to let the child in, and it took half an hour; the child was crying and distressed. Deng Yilan wasn't there that day, but she was genuinely shocked when she heard later that Han Jun almost kicked down the school gate.

What could she do about this? Such unpleasantness—wasn't it common? But she didn't advise her husband like this. She made him a cup of tea and silently held his hand for a while. A few minutes later, Han Jun subconsciously gently stroked her hand.

Such a vivid person, such a different person... now he was packed in a black plastic bag, his face swollen and distorted.

When Deng Yilan finally came back to her senses from her memories, she found herself crying hysterically, constantly pushing away the police officer holding her, wanting to rush back to the small grove to see what had happened to Han Jun and why he fell silently in the mud. The night was as dark as ink; the street lights couldn't illuminate it, and neither could the flashlight nor the police car lights. Everything was blurry. She didn't even remember calling the police.

"Control your emotions, family member!" a middle-aged police officer shouted, his face also looking very bad, probably because of the heinous case. "Did you touch the body just now? By doing so, you destroyed evidence. How are we supposed to investigate? Cooperate with our work!"

Right—right—this was a murder case.

Someone killed Han Jun.

"I-I know who killed him," Deng Yilan cried breathlessly, trying to say the same thing several times. "Th-there was a woman who said she found my husband's phone... and asked me to come and take it. It's her; she sounded like a man, but I recognized her!"

She tried to explain everything that happened in the afternoon, although it was somewhat confused and tearful.

"Did you see her back?" The police officer thought momentarily, "If we show you the surveillance footage, can you recognize the person?"

"I can, definitely! But, she was wearing a hat."

"We have gait recognition, can't escape." The middle-aged police officer didn't seem to want to explain further, waved his hand, and had someone drag the body out of the grove. Deng Yilan forgot everything else she wanted to say and just stood dazedly on the sidewalk, watching Han Jun pass by her for the last time, disappearing into the dark doors of the body transport vehicle.

The next day, her husband became a small urn of ashes.