One day prinsor IV

He demonstrated astonishing card skills to me. Even if I thoroughly shuffled the cards, he could still remember the position of each card. I became more convinced that he was a wizard hidden in the modern city.

Finally, he threw the cards on the table and said, "It's not mysterious at all. I'm not a magician. Young man, go buy a pair of polarized glasses. These cards are for you. Sometimes you will find that with a different pair of glasses, you can see incredible things clearly."

I actually asked someone to buy me a cheap pair of polarized glasses. When I put them on and looked at the deck of cards, I discovered that the back of each card was marked with special ink.

This was one of the most interesting things Mr. B taught me. Perhaps he had another intention, but I couldn't guess it.

After lunch, I found him standing at the doorstep, staring blankly at the streetlight across the road.

"The weather is nice," I cautiously greeted him.

"Yeah, the weather is always like this. I hope to see rain one day," he murmured to himself, then strangely said, "Look at that streetlight."

"Streetlight?"

"Yes, has it always been there?"

I carefully looked at the streetlight and then at him. "Of course, it has been there for a long time, always."

"It...hasn't...never been broken?" he asked me in a whisper, as if filled with fear.

"I don't think so," I shook my head. It was uncertain; there were many mischievous children around, and I had only been working as a caretaker here for two months.

He asked me a chilling question, "Have you ever seen fragments of the streetlight fly up from the ground and automatically reassemble?"

The sun was shining brightly, yet his face remained pale. My heart felt as if it was being squeezed by an invisible, icy hand. He sensed my fear and simply smiled before going inside.

Honestly, Mr. B was the first person to make me so scared within a day of knowing him.

I didn't dare to greet him again. In the afternoon, I saw him coming and going, talking to me at times. But nothing particularly strange happened.

At night, he died.

After two men in black carried away Mr. B's body and everything in the room, I stood in his bedroom, bewildered, with snow-white walls and spotless floors. What were the men in black searching for in this room? Did Mr. B really hide something here? Recalling the various peculiarities of Mr. B, I felt that this room had firmly captivated my heart. His soul lingered here, I absurdly told myself.

Suddenly, struck by inspiration, I took out the pair of polarized glasses from my pocket. When I put them on, I was stunned.

Oh my God, the walls were covered in writing.

Without a doubt, this was specifically written by Mr. B for me, successfully deceiving the two men in black. I locked the door from the inside and returned to the bedroom, excitedly reading the words on the wall. Here was the most chilling story written:

I am writing this because I have a premonition that I am about to die. I have longed to share my experiences with someone, but I dare not. Now, I am telling you through this method that the world is not as simple as you think.

Writing on the wall is because: 1. They will take away everything movable in the end, leaving only the walls. 2. It is only through such a primitive, simple, and unreliable method that I can deceive them. You are clever; you understand the implications I made for you.

After my death, no one will be able to see my grave. Let me mourn myself: B, 65 years old, died from prolonged loneliness and depleted vitality. He was a sinner, yet a pitiful sacrifice. In this place, at this moment, I have been imprisoned for ten years.

Ten years.

The nightmare began like this, due to a common human weakness, I committed a crime, a great sin. In my world, a world you have not seen and cannot imagine, I learned what kind of punishment I would receive.

The judge said, "You are sentenced to a lifetime imprisonment of one day: during your lifetime, you will forever live the same day - the day we randomly selected for you, August 18, 2008. All your life activities are limited to these twenty-four hours, until your natural life comes to an end. As a humanitarian concession, you can serve your sentence in a bustling city, but during the sentence, you cannot mention to anyone around you about yourself and the punishment you received. Otherwise, we will transfer you to a closed space to spend your sentence in solitude."

Do you understand? My friend, this is an endless nightmare.

I am said to be one of the first batch of prisoners sentenced to time imprisonment. They still do not fully understand the implications of this technology, and we are considered experimental subjects.

At first, I did not truly comprehend the horrors of this punishment. It is a lively and bustling city, full of vitality everywhere. I moved into my room and felt pleased to be immersed in the open world. I observed the crowds below through the glass window, not yet concerned about the days to come.

The first day - I say this out of habit, but in reality, the ten years I have experienced, these more than 3,600 days, are all the same day for you. On the first day, I woke up early, intending to go for a walk and breathe the air of this city. My neighbor, Mrs. at number 1608 - she is truly a thoughtful person - greeted me warmly.

"Hello! Are you the new neighbor?"

I replied, "Yes. Nice to meet you."

"Where are you from?"

To be continued.