Chapter 54: To Be Honest, It

The two quickly drove to Fifth Avenue.

Compared to the bustling Third Avenue, this place looked more dilapidated and ancient, with iron barrels at the corners piled high with needles and bloodstained tissues.

The homeless living here were mostly Folding Type, each hunched like zombies, lost in the illusion of stimulants, making not a single extra movement, as if frozen mannequins.

To be honest, if Roger hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he'd have thought these people were frozen in time.

After entering the street, he also noticed walls plastered with many small posters recruiting for human medical experiments and organ transplants.

"Participate in clinical research and receive up to $12,000 in compensation!"

"Free physical exams, free medical care, 1-minute pre-screening, scan the code to see if you qualify."

"Eight lives will be reborn because of your decision—join us."

"Approval in as fast as 3 minutes—you're worth more than you think." Read novels every day to cure your reading drought, ttks. tw is super practical.

These posters reminded Roger of the organ donation ads he'd once seen on the subway.

"You've already had yours (now it's someone else's turn)."

"Admit it—part of you wants immortality."

But unlike the latter's subtle and sinister tone, the posters here in the homeless encampment were brutally direct, boldly listing cash amounts to lure these desperate people.

But obviously, someone whose brain was enslaved by stimulants and whose body was ravaged by disease could never pass a drug trial or organ donation screening.

Even if they did pass, and even if they had the nerve to sell, they'd never receive the so-called top payment—just like the lowest interest rates advertised in domestic loan posters.

All of it was just trickery to lure fools.

Roger quietly led Qiangsen through the street, avoiding eye contact with smokers on the roadside and not lingering near any Folding Types.

Not long after, they found the nearby homeless encampment.

The entire street was crammed with tents, the ground littered with trash and filthy wastewater, fist-sized rats scurrying openly, chittering loudly.

But thanks to the rats, Roger and Qiangsen weren't suffocated by the eerie, unnerving silence.

"Damn, are all these guys junkies?"

Although Roger had once been homeless himself, not all homeless were the same.

Just like the clearly segregated white and Black neighborhoods in Meilijian, Folding Type homeless and ordinary homeless coexisted peacefully in their own territories.

You could say everyone lived in their own cage, and only by chance could you catch a glimpse of another's world.

"I feel this place is dangerous, Boss Roger," Qiangsen said, as always timid—he stared at the group of Black men clustered nearby, keenly sensing they were local gang members.

Gangs here had only one purpose: selling drugs.

Although the homeless had little money, gangs could cut costs by mixing veterinary drugs into the stimulants.

"Don't worry, as long as we don't make any big trouble, we'll be fine."

As they walked further, the two suddenly heard a commotion.

"Woof! Woof! Woof!" Then came the familiar barking, followed by a scream.

"Shit, it's Jose!" Roger and Qiangsen sprinted over, rounded the corner, and found two men with small knives surrounding Juan, while another man holding an iron rod had his groin bitten by Jose.

Qiangsen immediately shouted: "It's them—they stole our tent!"

Without hesitation, Roger rushed forward and kicked the men surrounding Juan.

The attackers, caught off guard, rolled over several times on the ground, clutching their waists and groaning in pain.

Seeing this, Juan swung the blue tarp, bound into a stick-like shape with rope, forcing the other attacker back.

"Jose!"

He called out, and the Rottweiler immediately released its grip and rushed over.

"Take this!" Juan handed the tarp to Qiangsen, then charged toward the last remaining attacker, teaming up with Jose to disarm him in seconds.

"Let's go!"

Seeing all three had lost their ability to resist, Roger waved his hand and led the two men and the dog away from the scene.

……

"Phew, my heart won't stop pounding," Qiangsen said after climbing into the car, his face still flushed.

Roger and Juan, however, remained calm.

"Who were they?" Roger started the car and looked at Juan.

Juan fastened his seatbelt: "A few thugs. I tried to sneak in and take the tent while they weren't looking, but some homeless guy tipped them off."

Roger nodded: "Do you want to move somewhere else?"

Making enemies wasn't scary—what was scary was them knowing where Juan and Qiangsen lived; if they sought revenge, it would be hard to guard against.

"Move." Juan's decisiveness was admirable.

Jose licked Roger twice while he shifted gears.

"Little guy," Roger affectionately ruffled its head, then said: "I've got something to investigate tonight, and since you two are here, you can keep me company."

"What's it about, Boss Roger?" Qiangsen asked curiously.

"I don't know—I just heard a rumor that a deserted mall's bathroom keeps echoing with the crying of a baby. You know how reporters' tips are—wild and weird." Roger shrugged.

"God, crying? That sounds scary—could it be a ghost?!" Qiangsen looked terrified.

"Hey, Qiangsen, you're a big guy! Don't waste that name, okay!" Roger said with exasperation: "Besides, do you have money?"

"No."

"Then there you go—the poorest are the scariest people in this world."

"Uh." Qiangsen, stung, scratched his head: "Alright, I'll try not to be scared."

"Where is it?" Juan asked.

"Fifth Avenue… the same place where we just beat up those guys," Roger grimaced: "Hope we don't run into them tonight."

"So what do we do now, Boss Roger?"

"Now?" Roger snapped his fingers. "Let's find you a new home, and while we're at it, buy Jose a sausage."

"Woof! Woof!" Jose leaped excitedly, barking loudly.

……

As time passed, the sky quickly shifted from deep blue to pitch black; the crescent moon was veiled by thin clouds, making the areas away from the city center even darker.

At 11 p. m., Roger parked the car outside the destination.

This place had once been the Fifth Avenue Shopping Center, but it had been abandoned for a long time.

"Doesn't this place have a single living thing?"

Roger pursed his lips, staring out the car window.

Before them stood a massive building, as if stripped of flesh and skin, silently crouched at the end of the dim street; its shattered glass façade reflected the murky moonlight, and its hollow windows resembled countless unblinking compound eyes, watching every movement of passersby.

There was no human voice, no animal sound—only the piercing howl of the wind sweeping through the corridors, reaching the ears of the four.

Juan opened the car door and let Jose out.

Yet even the brave pit bull, upon seeing the ruins, grew cautious, circling the man's legs and refusing to leave.

Qiangsen was worse—he clasped his hands together before his chest, as if about to scream "God, Mom, save me!" across his face.

Only Roger and Juan showed no emotional fluctuation.

Oh no.

Roger suddenly noticed Juan crouching on the ground, one hand gently stroking Jose's head, speaking in an unusually tender tone: "Hey, Jose, look here—doesn't this remind you of the warehouse we hid in when we were being chased in Colombia? I still remember you carried me away after I got shot."

"Look at these exposed rebar, Jose—doesn't it remind you of the underpass we hid in back then?"

"This place feels so familiar, Jose—what do you think?"

Hearing these words, Roger swallowed hard.

Damn it!

I forgot!

Between Juan's midnight episodes and the abandoned mall's restroom, it's hard to say which is weirder!