Cold-Blooded Days: Two Tickets

Jiang Xueming was an ordinary man.

Male, attracted to females.

Twenty-one years old, he came to HK to work four years ago. He needed to scrape together tuition for his sister, lest his family continue their cycle of illiteracy under the guidance of their uneducated parents.

He worked as a cashier at a braised food stall in Hung Hom MTR station, occasionally taking on odd jobs at a toy store on Kwong Wa Street.

If you also take this MTR line, you might see him at the small shop near the ticket gates.

He was a little over 1.7 meters tall, not particularly tall. Malnourished since childhood, he hadn't eaten much meat, eggs, or milk, resulting in his short stature.

He would occasionally force a smile when facing customers, a forced politeness that anyone could see was purely for business.

When there were no customers, his expression was cold and distant. His brow was perpetually furrowed, as if he were constantly contemplating—contemplating how to just get through the day. But today, just today—it felt like he couldn't get through the day.

Jiang Xueming had received two counterfeit bills. To be precise, they were two train tickets that felt remarkably like real currency. Both their thickness and paper texture were eerily similar to thousand-dollar bills.

As night fell, the lights of the MTR station gradually extinguished, leaving only the faint glow of emergency lights stretching towards the exit.

He clutched these two tickets, his heart filled with anxiety.

He could smell the salty, fishy odor of oil stains on his apron.

His eyes fell upon the models on the advertising light boards, their makeup garish like monsters after the lights had faded.

His footsteps echoed long and drawn-out in the empty passageway.

He swallowed nervously, not daring to look directly at the tickets in his hand, hoping that in the dim light, these two train tickets would magically transform back into banknotes.

"If I accepted fake money, the manager will make me pay for it out of my own pocket," he muttered, as if possessed.

"Who would use a thousand dollars to buy beef offal? And two at once? How could I have fallen for this? How could I have fallen for this? I..."

"Bailu got a skin condition and took three days off to see a doctor. She needs to keep studying."

"This illness won't get better quickly. She has to see a doctor."

"I brought her here from home. I have to take care of her."

They say adult breakdowns often happen in an instant, but he didn't even have time to break down. He was meticulously thinking, pondering—how to struggle his way out of this adversity.

He had two more hours before he could return to his pigeon-coop-like rented room to prepare three meals for his sister, Jiang Bailu, for the next day.

Then he had to shower and brush his teeth, and be asleep before eleven o'clock, otherwise, he might not make it to the morning work bell.

On his way home, he checked his mobile banking balance repeatedly. It still held next month's rent and living expenses, but starting work tomorrow and checking the accounts would be a major blow.

The old elevator bell let out a piercing screech. The rusty door lock, long unrepaired, began to wail. Entering the apartment led directly into the kitchen and bathroom.

Jiang Xueming saw his sister standing by the bunk bed, wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. She just stood there, doing nothing, saying nothing, as if she had been waiting for him to come home.

Unwashed bowls and plates were crammed onto the small dining table.

"Brother," Jiang Bailu asked timidly, "I didn't wash the dishes. I'm sorry, I feel really tired today."

"Don't say another word," Jiang Xueming said, taking off his apron with practiced speed and starting to clear the dishes, preparing to cook.

The kitchen was tiny, and Bailu couldn't help much, only watching anxiously, rushing to explain.

"Brother, I wasn't trying to be lazy. I promised I'd wash the dishes, but today I found spots on my hands too." She kept her hands behind her back, afraid to show them.

Xue Ming, while tidying the kitchen, casually asked, "Let me see."

"Shouldn't I wait until tomorrow?" Bailu immediately changed her tune, panic flashing in her eyes. "Or maybe I'll just sleep? Maybe it'll get better after I sleep! Brother, I'm afraid of infecting you. I..."

Jiang Xueming's voice softened. He smiled and said gently, "Let me see, Bailu."

Under the pale light, Jiang Bailu's eyes were dull, her dark circles instantly revealed. Half of her right cheek was covered in red spots, spreading to her neck and collarbone.

He held his sister's hands and saw more red patches appearing on her wrists and the fleshy mounds of her thumbs, extending up her forearms. In many places, they had already formed raised lumps.

He asked, "Does it hurt? Does it itch?"

Bailu just shook her head.

He continued, "What did the doctor say?"

Bailu glanced sideways, her lips pressed together. After a long pause, she finally spoke.

"They just said it was an allergy."

He turned back, continuing to tidy the room. "Then it's an allergy. Don't be scared."

Bailu asked anxiously, "Brother, will it cost a lot of money?"

He replied briefly while busy, "It's okay, no problem."

Bailu remained very nervous. "Or... or should we go back?"

As she asked this question, Bailu felt a thousand reasons to be unwilling. This sibling pair came from a very, very special family. Even if they starved to death outside, they had reasons not to go home.

"I brought you here precisely to escape from Mom and Dad, so you could study well and become a useful person to society, to seize happiness with your own hands. What would we go back for? For them to arrange a marriage for you and earn a dowry? To tie you to a sedan chair and send you off to some family?" Xue Ming finally helped his sister back to bed. "Rest and get better."

"Mhm," Bailu pulled the curtain closed, her dark, round eyes peeking out. She watched her brother Xue Ming busy himself, and her heart settled.

She heard the ingredients bubbling in the pot and smelled the scent of specially priced chicken breast and pasta boiling in plain water.

She watched her brother nimbly clean the cutting board, his grooming meticulous.

Her mind buzzed with little thoughts. Big brother is so handsome, he should be able to find a rich woman. Then we could live a good life. He just needs to smile more—he never smiles, he's always been like a block of ice.

"Brother, I'll tell you a joke. My classmate told me today."

Xue Ming was still trimming his beard in front of the mirror, glancing at the train tickets on the vanity without much thought. "Go ahead, I'm listening. I'll sleep after you do."

Bailu continued, "My classmate said you're a strange person."

"They don't like me? They're making fun of you because I sell beef offal?" Xue Ming held his razor, tilting his head to look at his reflection. He was a man worn smooth by life.

"No, no, they like you. They saw you at the subway entrance and said you don't look like a beef offal vendor, you look like a star." Bailu's tone turned playful. "Where else do you find a beef offal vendor reading books and newspapers when they have free time? They don't flatter customers or force a smile. When they serve the braised meat, their movements are like pouring red wine. Like a firefly in the dark, like..."

Jiang Xueming's razor seemed to understand his sister's teasing, finally becoming sharp. "Should I pair it with a martini? With an olive and a lemon slice? And a pig-slaughtering knife?"

Bailu went on to describe him, "Like a killer. Yes, hahahahaha. A killer disguised as a cashier."

"Mm," Jiang Xueming merely replied.

"Boring, boring. I tried so hard! And you just say 'mm'?" Bailu pouted and rolled over.

Jiang Xueming spoke nonsense with a straight face. "Then should I say 'hahahaha' a few times?"

Before long, Jiang Bailu couldn't stand the overly elegant cold jokes and immediately fell asleep.

As faint snores began to emerge, Xue Ming finally finished tidying himself up, inside and out. He took a bucket of clothes to the laundry room. When he returned, he stood under the clothesline in the corridor, looking at the stars.

This man of routine finally had a moment to break down. After all, people aren't made of steel.

He covered his face, rubbing his forehead, murmuring softly, as if reciting scripture.

He tried to keep his voice low, so as not to disturb the many ordinary neighbors.

"I'm sorry, I'm a bad person. I promised something I couldn't deliver. What do I do? What the hell, what the hell do I do?"

After a long, long time—the life of a routine person had to continue.

Under the starlight, he stared at two train tickets. He could barely make out the words on the slips.

[Nine Realms Station]

[HK → SW]

[Platform 3, Carriage 13, Seat 15B]

The other ticket was for the return trip.

Nine Realms Station? This unfamiliar place name left him completely bewildered.

"They made them look so much like real money, they must be for fraud! They couldn't even be bothered to write the travel times? So damn clever! I'll fucking kill these bastards! The penalties for counterfeiting money and making fake tickets are different. Now these criminals, to live a good life, will go to any lengths to exploit loopholes."

He casually tore the two tickets into pieces and threw them away.

But this was just the beginning.

The moment the morning alarm rang.

Xue Ming's thumb was already on his phone, as if presciently silencing the screen.

He rolled out of bed, dressed, and put on his shoes, his quiet composure masking the sound of his movements on the floor to avoid disturbing Bailu.

Everything was done in tens of seconds, as precise as clockwork gears.

He moved like a robot, his mechanical actions halting when his hand touched his work ID.

Two train tickets were now in his shirt pocket. They were the tickets he had personally torn up last night—the familiar feel aroused his suspicion.

This time, another line of text was printed on the tickets.

[Nine Realms Station]

[HK → SW]

[Platform 3, Carriage 13, Seat 15B]

[July 7, 2024, 16:11 - 23:55]

The bright red printed characters were glaring. If he sniffed closely, he could still smell the ink.

The other ticket was the same, except it didn't list the return time.

He stared at the two tickets in confusion. He remembered everything clearly, having thought about it endlessly. He had been wide awake last night, not defeated by anxiety, not crushed by exhaustion, not shattered by sudden pressure.

The sound and feel of tearing the tickets were so real, it couldn't have been a dream.

At this point, a man of routine didn't have much time for wild thoughts. He had to go to work. How to deal with these two tickets wasn't his concern right now. He had to earn money—so he casually placed the tickets back on the table.

Just as he reached the elevator door, he immediately encountered a delivery driver.

"Are you Mr. Jiang Xueming? You have a delivery."

Xue Ming replied casually, "Leave it outside. I'm in a hurry."

The delivery driver immediately said, "It's your train tickets. The package says they're very valuable, and insured for over thirty thousand. I have to deliver them to you personally."

Xue Ming froze for a moment, then an inexplicable chill ran through him, as if his whole body had gone numb.

The delivery driver placed an envelope in Xue Ming's hand and rushed off to his next stop.

At this moment, work didn't seem so important anymore.

The return address on the envelope was also Nine Realms Station, but the phone number led to a dead line.

He opened the envelope, and the train ticket inside was exactly the same as the thing he had just touched.

There was no ticket number, only the departure and arrival points, along with the station name and the departure and arrival times.

The entire ticket was orange, resembling a thousand-yuan banknote, but without any official insignia. Instead, it bore an inverted pentagram emblem and a pattern of wheat stalks. It lacked any proof of issuance from a printing unit.

Moving his thumb away, Jiang Xueming could still see a bit of brown ink staining his fingertip, like dried blood.

He found it all incredibly strange, as if an unseen, intangible entity had extended an invitation to him.

But then came the problem. On this particular day, holding the ticket, he cursed in a mix of anger and amusement:

"--Where the hell is Nine Realms anyway!?"

He immediately forgot about work, as if he had found a way to overcome his difficulties.

However, it wasn't to go to some damned Nine Realms Station, but to immediately call the local police.

He could only place his hope in the police officers, wishing they could help him recover the money or provide some clues, especially since HK had a system for investigation rewards.

That morning, Xue Ming entered the Hung Hom police station and explained the situation to the officers. He provided them with all the specific details of the incident.

When he showed the police officers the train ticket in his hand.

Something even more unbelievable happened.

"Mr. Jiang Xueming, you're talking about a train ticket that looks like counterfeit money? Is it this one in your hand?" The officer seemed a bit bewildered, his expression full of confusion.

In that instant, Xue Ming looked at the ticket in his hand, not quite understanding what the officer was asking.

"Yes, this ticket. It's a ticket, and it says..."

"It says 'Payable upon presentation, one thousand yuan'," the officer interrupted. "Printed by order of the board, September 1, 2003. Ticket number AK887411. Is this the one? I can read. It's currency, not a train ticket."

"Currency?" Jiang Xueming was stunned.

The officer asked disdainfully, "Where are you from? You don't even recognize money anymore? You mistook it for a train ticket?"

"Oh," Jiang Xueming hadn't quite processed it yet, wondering if perhaps this strange ticket appeared as actual money to others.

"Hand it over, I'll get it checked," the officer took Xue Ming's ticket and went to the adjacent department.

While waiting, Xue Ming felt uneasy. It wasn't just the inexplicable events of the past couple of days, but also his sister's skin condition that filled him with anxiety.

After a long while, he heard a disappointed sigh from the next department.

The officer finally returned.

"Hey! Take your money and go! Don't report false alarms next time! Are you under too much stress? Do you want me to call an ambulance to take you to the psychiatric ward? Who are you trying to fool? Do you want to go to jail?"

"This is real money?" Xue Ming immediately stood up, unable to believe it.

"Yeah, I thought it was a major counterfeit case!" The officer stared suspiciously at Jiang Xueming. "It's real money, the money detector doesn't lie. Did you find it?"

"No, no. It's not that I'm under stress. I've been having hallucinations lately. I'll be more careful next time. Thank you, officer, you've worked hard!" Xue Ming said, thanking him as he backed out.

The officer waved his hand. "Go on, go on. Be careful on the road. I have the contact information for a psychiatrist if you need it. What do you mean 'next time'? You want to be careful next time? Next time, bring ghost money for the Hungry Ghost Festival, okay? What a bore!?"

Xue Ming forced a smile all the way, quickly retreating with hurried steps to the door. "Thank you. Thank you."

In just a few seconds, he returned.

Xue Ming politely asked, "Excuse me, officer, do you know of a place called Nine Realms?"

"I know of Kowloon and the New Territories, but what the heck is Nine Realms? Why don't you ask Siri on your map navigation? Let her tell you. Also, don't call me officer, call me 'Ah Sir'."

"Okay, Ah Sir."

After leaving the police station, he looked at the ticket in his hand thoughtfully. He had a bold idea.

The ordinary man's life had to go on.