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Stepping out of the October 23 carriage, the heavy stench in the air suddenly weakened, and a cold wind blew from the gap between the trains.

I took a big breath of fresh air. Seeing my embarrassed appearance, the flight attendant's eyes became a little more confused.

Being stared at by her like this made me feel uneasy. I might be the only living person on this train, so my behavior couldn't be much different from other passengers.

"Dead people don't feel uncomfortable." I reminded myself silently in my heart, and I quickly returned to normal, with a straight face and no more unnecessary expressions.

"Come in." In front of him was a strange carriage with no number on it, as if this train only had seven carriages carrying passengers.

I wanted to refuse, but I had to lower my head under the eaves. Holding the talisman in one hand, I followed the steward and entered the unnumbered carriage.

The air is a bit turbid, and there is a strange smell floating around. It is indescribable, like an unknown chemical raw material, but it is not too pungent. If you smell it too much, you will feel your brain is slow and dizzy.

"What is this carriage for?" I opened my eyes and looked. There were no seats or beds in the carriage. It was a big place. There was a photo on the wall with names written on it.

"You can treat this place as your own home." The flight attendant's tone didn't sound like he was joking: "Most people will leave marks here after they die, and the photos on the wall are their memories."

I hadn't heard the hidden meaning of the flight attendant's words at this time, so I looked at the wall curiously. Those photos were about the size of a palm. They were not common photos in life. They were just pieces of thin paper. However, the portraits on the paper were too real. , so in the dark I mistakenly thought it was a photo.

"Are these your collection? Are they the portraits of the deceased?" I murmured. At this time, under the influence of the special smell in the air, I felt in a trance.

I stretched out my hand to touch the tissue paper, and my fingertips felt like human skin. What I was touching was obviously the pattern in the painting, but it felt as if my palm was holding a person's face.

It was so real that I even felt like the people in the painting were looking at me.

"These are not collections, but tickets. In other words, this is the price you need to pay to get on the bus." The steward said very slowly, but it gave me a very bad feeling.

I began to recall what the flight attendant said to me after entering this special carriage: "Her first sentence seemed to be that the photos on the wall are all marks left by the passengers, and they are all their... memories?"

Scanning my eyes, I saw a middle-aged man with a sad face next to a brand new blank paper in the corner. He was Lu Wenchang who had just been taken away by the flight attendant.

As if I suddenly understood something, I retracted my outstretched finger and looked at the deep and endless car: "Is the price of getting on the car the price of my own memory?"

"A person's life is a journey, and the scenery you see is memory. This thing does not belong to you in the first place. Only by taking back the memory can you return to your true self." The flight attendant led me forward in the carriage, with walls on both sides It is densely covered with portraits, there are too many to count. They have different expressions, and they are all portraits of life experiences.

For example, I saw Lu Wenchang before. On the surface, this man seemed quite polite and treated his wife and children with great care, but in his heart, he really looked sad. Believing in the Double-Faced Buddha did not fundamentally change anything, but only made him more... A means of deceiving oneself.

His life was still terrible. Heavy life pressure and discrimination from all aspects of society made this middle-aged man's face wrinkled.

His memory is bitter. He wanted to prevent his children from encountering these injustices. He trained his children to use their left hand to eat and write. In order to help his children, he mobilized the whole family to use their left hands to use chopsticks and pencils. This is a little person. Despite their persistence, they also have their own happiness, but in fact the bitterness in Lu Wenchang's heart has never diminished.

The pressure of his children going to school, the medical expenses for his wife's treatment, the impact of hard work on his own health, everything weighed down on him and he couldn't breathe. Only he knew his sorrow.

No, to be precise, when I touched his portrait with my fingertips, I also understood what happened to him.

"It's a very mysterious feeling. It turns out that memories also have flavor." After walking a long way in this unnumbered carriage and seeing a large number of portraits on both sides, the flight attendant finally stopped and the carriage reached the end.

I also stopped. To this day, I still don’t know what kind of medicine the flight attendant was selling. She seemed to have figured out my identity as a living person and acted very strangely.

"You must be curious as to why I brought you to this place." The steward looked at the portraits on the walls on both sides, and then opened the door to the next carriage.

I couldn't figure out what she meant, so I looked sideways.

The door leads to the next carriage, and the interior of the carriage is exactly the same as this carriage, empty and covered with portraits.

And under the dim light coming from nowhere, I could vaguely see that outside the door of that carriage were one after another seemingly endless carriages.

The interior layout of all the carriages is the same as this one. There is a portrait on the wall, which is full of emotions.

"No one knows how long this train is. It travels between life and death, traveling between reality and reality. You can understand that its terminal station is what people often call the underworld. You can also think of the train itself as The underworld." The steward pointed at the repetitive carriages. Her facial features had shifted unknowingly, and I had become accustomed to the horror that she inadvertently showed. She looked to me like a person from the past. The monsters that run out of nightmares are absurd, terrifying, and so powerful that they cannot be resisted by any means.

"Maybe the train itself is a nightmare, a nightmare that encompasses all the lost souls."

"Dream? It's obviously wrong for you to use such a beautiful word to explain this train." The conductor led me to the middle of the two carriages. There was a table in the aisle, which just blocked the intersection. On the table, there were A porcelain bowl. Interestingly, no matter how bumpy the train was, the water in the bowl did not spill out at all.

"Other than dreams, I can't think of any other explanation." I became the host of the underworld show and saw many things that ordinary people would never see in their lifetime, but this does not mean that I have a deep understanding of this world. On the contrary, the more I know, the more doubt and awe I feel.

There are so many unsolved mysteries in the world, and what I have seen and come into contact with is only a small part of the world.

"Many passengers have asked me about the answer to this train. In fact, the real answer..." The steward picked up the porcelain bowl on the table: "It's in this bowl of water. Drink it and you will understand many things."

The flight attendant's tone became very gentle in an instant. I took the porcelain bowl without any will to resist. Until my lips were about to touch the edge of the bowl, I suddenly felt a burning sensation in my arms. The huge pain made me suddenly Come to your senses.

"No!" I threw away the porcelain bowl subconsciously.

The porcelain bowl fell to the ground, but it did not break. What was even more strange was that not a drop of water inside was spilled.

"What are you going to give me to drink?!" If it hadn't been for the sudden sharp pain in my arms that woke me up, I would have fallen in love with the flight attendant and drank the water in the bowl.

"I'm doing it for your own good. Drinking this water will relieve your worries and forget all your worries. If you drink it, you will be reborn." The flight attendant calmly picked up the porcelain bowl again. She didn't seem to be afraid that I would refuse.

I rolled my eyes and managed to stay calm, as my heart was already filled with waves.

That porcelain bowl contained some kind of worry-relieving water, it was simply Meng Po soup! After drinking it, I will probably become like Lu Wenchang, my memory will disappear and I will become a lonely portrait on the wall of the train!

"Drink." The flight attendant opened her mouth and said. As soon as she opened her mouth, the voice resounded directly in my mind. My mind was shocked and my thinking was disturbed. I instinctively stretched out my hands.

"Drink it, and you will be reborn and start a new journey." The flight attendant looked at me with a smile: "Human beings are a cycle of reincarnation, starting from nothing, and then from being to nothing."