He said a few pointless things, then the man brought over a machine—silver, with lots of control knobs, looking a bit like an amplifier. But it wasn’t for connecting to speakers; it was for playing tapes.

This thing was called a “cassette tape deck,” or just a tape deck for short.

Simply put, it was similar to a tape recorder; it could play and record tapes, but the quality was professional-grade. In the 1980s and 90s, especially in Japan, a huge number of tape decks were produced, and now they’re all collectibles.

“Yamaha K6, original voltage 100, original tape head, the head is very new with no wear, the belt’s been replaced, both recording and playback work perfectly…”

The man explained as if it were a treasure, but William Clark didn’t understand a thing. He’d just seen it online, noticed it was in the same city, so he bought it.

“Two thousand, right?”

“Uh, yes!”

“Did you bring the tapes?”

The man pulled out a bag of tapes. Just by looking, you could tell they’d been carefully preserved. He said, “All original tapes, all can be played, twenty each.”

“Twenty? I heard some sell for tens of thousands?”

“Those are rare, genuine Hong Kong and Taiwan releases, or complete album sets. I have a Beyond signed blank tape, cost me 11,000 back then.”

Yep, a blue-and-silver with a story!

William Clark nodded, flipping through the tapes spread across the table.

“熊天平, 无印良品, 苏慧伦, 江美琪, 许美静… wow, if I wasn’t into old-school culture, I wouldn’t even know who these people are.”

“Yeah, even Stefanie Sun is considered a niche singer now,” the man sighed.

“Wow, RURU Honda’s ‘Beautiful Mood’? Anyone who can sing this would have a lot in common with me. Hey, do you listen to ‘Big Wind Blows’?”

“That’s just garbage, musical tailor, HE… TUI!”

The man looked down on it.

“Haha, see, we do have something in common!”

William Clark spread his arms and swept all the tapes into his embrace. “I’ll take them all!”

Pfft!

A second ago, the man thought this guy was worth befriending; the next, he turned into a big spender. He’d brought 30 tapes, that’s 600, plus the tape deck, so 2,600.

For many people, that’s nothing. But for many others, it could be life-saving money.

He went over and over, explaining some maintenance tips for tape decks and tapes, and shared some basic knowledge. Like what a Type IV tape is, what a metal tape is, how to dub tapes yourself, and so on.

They had a meal together in S County, and the man insisted on paying. William Clark didn’t refuse.

…

That night, it rained again.

Sweet potatoes were simmering in the pot.

No special reason—he’d seen on his phone that eating whole grains was good, so on a whim, he bought a few sweet potatoes. Besides this meal, the rest would probably sprout before he finished them.

This was William Clark’s daily life—a 26-year-old guy, already retired early.

If he weren’t the protagonist, he’d have been beaten to death by now!

“Splash, splash, splash!”

“Splash, splash, splash!”

Raindrops pattered against the window. He glanced outside, feeling like it had rained a lot this summer.

With a new toy in hand, he couldn’t wait to play with it. The tape deck’s audio was standard line output, which had to be amplified before it could drive the speakers.

He happened to have HiVi speakers, something he’d bought during a previous shopping spree.

The sweet potatoes were done. He picked one, sliced up some tomatoes for the plate, poured half a glass of red wine—making a whole ritual out of it. Then he stuffed a tape into the deck, but before he could press play—

“Boom!”

“Rumble, rumble!”

Thunder rolled, exactly like the night before. The house, the walls, the floor began to shake, and that indescribable mysterious force started rampaging through the room again.

This time, he wasn’t asleep. He stared, dumbfounded, at the west wall of the bedroom.

The wall was trembling, collapsing, shattering, but not a single bit of brick or dust fell, as if some powerful suction was pulling it away. The walls on both sides were also slowly stretching toward that side, stretching…

After a few seconds, the entire wall actually disappeared.

William Clark was heartbroken!

Where’s my wall? My big, snow-white, solid wall!!!

Of course, now wasn’t the time to worry about that. With the wall gone, what appeared behind it wasn’t a black hole, nor the apartment’s open space, but another bedroom.

In other words, the two bedrooms were inexplicably joined together. Different styles of ceiling and floor were forcibly spliced, the colors distinct, and the side walls bulged out, as if forming a giant doorway.

And in the room opposite, a girl was standing there, just as dumbfounded.

Chapter 3: So You’re My Master

Years later, whenever William Clark was building sticky items, he would always remember that distant night when he turned into a ball.

…

The room opposite was a mess.

It looked like an indoor junkyard, piled high with all sorts of unidentifiable junk. The only clear space was a single bed, with a square table beside it, which was also a mess.

The girl was sixteen or seventeen, petite, wearing a pair of tattered corduroy pants, a shirt whose color you couldn’t tell, and an oversized old men’s jacket.

Her hair was shoulder-length, bangs messy, a round little face, and her eyes were anything but calm—like a cranky little animal.

She really did get cranky, shouting at William Clark.

“Who are you?”

“Who are you?”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Don’t come over here!”

“I’m not coming over!”