Chapter 85 Part 3: Arrived at the Station

“Mom, I’m working late—”

He stared at the screen for a long time.

Then he deleted the words one by one.

Typed again.

Very slowly.

“Mom, I’m home.”

“I worked a little late tonight, don’t worry.”

“Oh yeah, things have been pretty good at the company lately. The boss even praised me today.”

He didn’t send it.

He just said it out loud.

His voice was soft, but White Night heard it.

Like he was practicing.

Like he was convincing himself.

“I’ll wait until tomorrow. Tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll go look for a job again.”

“Once I find one, I’ll tell her the truth.”

He bent down and picked up his computer bag.

Then he turned into fine ash, scattered on the platform.

The computer bag fell to the ground, the zipper popped open, and a copy of his resume fell out.

The corners had been folded, then smoothed out, but the creases were still there.

The resume turned to ash too.

The man with glasses was the second one to get off the bus.

Before stepping off, he took one last look at the girl’s sandals on his phone screen.

He smiled.

A very light smile.

Like he remembered the sound of his daughter calling him Daddy.

He pressed the purchase button.

Order confirmed, payment successful.

Estimated delivery time.

But that order would never be delivered.

He stepped off the bus, took a few steps, and turned to ash.

The ash fell on the platform.

The young mother holding a child got off the bus very gently.

Afraid of waking the baby in her arms.

After she got off, the baby in her arms also turned to ash.

When the child turned, she looked down.

For a moment, there was a blank look on her face.

In that instant, she might have sensed something.

But then she too turned to ash.

The old man in the sanitation worker’s uniform tightened the plastic bag in his arms before getting off.

The warmth of the baozi was still there.

He got off, walked to the edge of the platform, found a bench, and sat down.

He placed the plastic bag on his lap and reached out to feel the temperature of the bag.

Confirmed it was still warm.

He nodded.

As if talking to himself:

“Still hot. She loves these buns the most from this place—thin skin, big meat filling.”

“If I take them back, she can eat them while they’re hot.”

Then he turned to ash.

The plastic bag fell onto the bench.

The four meat buns inside the bag also turned to ash.

One after another.

All the passengers got off the bus.

Before each person got off, they did a small action that was the most important thing for them that day.

Someone took one last look at the watch on their wrist.

Someone zipped up their jacket.

Someone took a mint candy out of their pocket and put it in their mouth.

Someone picked up the shopping bag from under the seat.

Someone straightened their hair in the window reflection.

Every single one of them thought they were just ending their commute home.

The last one to get off was Lao Chen.

He stood up from the driver’s seat and put on his cap.

The brim was a little worn, the edges frayed.

He walked down the entire aisle, checking every row.

Made sure no passengers had left anything behind.

Made sure every seat was empty.

Made sure there were no particularly dirty tissues in the trash can.

He stopped at the door.

Turned around.

Faced the whole cabin and gave a deep bow.

Ninety degrees.

Not a perfunctory bow.

It was a bow that said, “I finished the work of my life.”

He straightened up.

Lao Chen’s voice was steady.

“This last late-night bus.”

“I drove it smoothly. Didn’t let any passengers fall or get hurt.”

He looked at the few strangers still in the bus.

As if he finally noticed them.

But he didn’t ask who they were.

He just nodded lightly in White Peace’s direction.

White Peace looked at him and nodded back just as lightly.

“You did a good job. A very good job.”

Lao Chen smiled.

When he used to get off work and walk home, he often smiled like that.

He got off the bus.

Took a few steps.

Turned to ash.

His cap fell onto the platform.

The cabin was completely empty now.

Outside the window, the street began to change.

The woman who was always crossing the road stopped.

Looked up at the sky, then also turned to ash.

Other pedestrians on the street turned to ash, one by one.

The “empty” sign on the taxi flashed twice and went out.

The neon lights went out one by one.

The electronic screens went black.

The whole street slowly faded from the dusk of evening into the blood-red of ruins.

Finally, the entire street returned to its true, collapsed, dead state.

Inside the window and outside the window finally became the same world.

A Ghost Crystal formed on the driver’s seat.

A little smaller than a fist.

It lay quietly on the driver’s seat.

Su Shuang’er walked over and picked up the Ghost Crystal.

As she picked it up, her fingers trembled for a moment.

She didn’t say a word.

The Ghost Crystal was close to her ear.

Inside, there was a very faint buzzing sound.

Wheels turning in the distance.

A late-night bus was slowly heading toward its own final stop.

Su Shuang’er wrapped the Ghost Crystal and stuffed it into her pocket.

She didn’t put it with the other Ghost Crystals.

She glanced at Mu Yingying.

Mu Yingying was standing in the middle of the bus, staring at the electronic sign at the front.

The three numbers “728” were still lit on the sign. Her expression was very calm—too calm.

Mu Yingying looked around.

The seats were empty.

The patches of sunlight were still there.

The smell of plastic and metal in the bus was still there.

But there was no one left.

White Night shrank back into the bike basket.

Mu Yingying got off the bus.

Su Shuang’er pushed the bike off the bus.

White Peace was the last one off.

As she got off, she turned back to look at the bus.

The door snapped shut.

The electronic sign on the front flashed once more and went out.

The bus stood quietly beside the platform.

No passengers inside, no driver.

Nothing on the seats.

But the smell from before the doomsday still lingered faintly.

A gust of wind would scatter it.

The group walked a few steps.

White Night turned around in the bike basket to look at the bus and asked softly, “An’an, will this bus ever run again?”

White Peace: “No.”

“It’s already arrived at its stop. Its road is finished.”

Mu Yingying turned back and looked at the bus.

Su Shuang’er said nothing.

They continued walking forward.

About a hundred meters ahead.

They kept walking.

The wind from the ruins blew in gusts.

Behind them, the bus sat quietly at the platform.

The electronic sign at the final stop had gone completely dark.

But the image of that bus would remain there forever.

It would never drive away again, never carry passengers again.

It had already finished its last run.

They reached the next intersection.

Su Shuang’er suddenly stopped.

She turned and looked toward a residential building on the right.

The building was half collapsed, the middle section still standing.

Most of the windows were broken.

Only the rightmost apartment on the third floor had an intact window.

With clean white curtains hanging.

White Peace followed her gaze.

“In that apartment.”

“There’s something.”

Su Shuang’er: “A Weirdness?”

White Peace: “Yes.”

“But it’s different from the bus just now.”

“That bus was the obsession of hope arriving at the station.”

“This apartment has a similar obsession.”

Mu Yingying immediately drew the Tang Dao at her waist and asked with a frown, “What kind of obsession?”

White Peace had already started walking toward the residential building, only leaving behind one sentence:

“Go up and see, and you’ll find out.”