Chapter 103

Not long after, Bob drove an old car quickly out of the yard and stopped in front of Zoey and me.

According to Zoey, she wouldn't be surprised if the car exploded the next second.

Bob opened the car door, wearing sunglasses he had found somewhere, and slid out of the car like a fish. He took small steps around to the front passenger door, carefully opened it, and made a very elegant inviting gesture.

"Doesn't he look like a secret agent in a movie, waiting for the boss to get in?"

Bob grinned, showing a sunny smile. The girls didn't care about his behavior now.

Sighing at how time spares no one, this guy couldn't keep up with the times.

"The boss usually sits in the back."

With that, Zoey and I sat in the back seat.

"Doesn't it really look like it? I designed this move for a long time, incorporating elements of dance. Can you feel the mysterious power of nature, the flowing water, the lion waking up from a nap and starting to hunt..."

Sitting in the driver's seat, Bob gestured wildly as he described his off-topic thoughts, occasionally turning his head, like a big boy.

At that moment, it felt like ten years ago when we had just left the college dorm, his endless chatter. He seemed unaware of his age, but having a good mindset was indeed a way to stay young. In this regard, Bob was exceptionally gifted. Where there were women, he was always young.

"Not at all. The way you wear sunglasses makes me think of a new direction for artificial intelligence self-driving technology."

Zoey said with a smile.

"What, expanding the space in the car to hold a grand ball inside? My God, girls with long hair wearing butterfly hair clips, dressed in formal shirts, black lace skirts, white long stockings, paired with black leather shoes, the breeze blowing, the skirt edges swaying! I feel like I was born for this moment!"

Zoey was stunned, turning her head to look at me incredulously as if asking how I knew such a strange person, and he was already a 35-year-old man.

"No, Mr. Moore, I meant that in the future, blind people could also drive AI cars themselves."

As soon as she said this, Zoey regretted it a bit. It wasn't humorous anymore; it was almost a personal attack.

Before Zoey could say anything, the "victim" Bob himself leaned on the steering wheel, laughing so hard he couldn't catch his breath. After a while, he calmed down and said,

"You have a talent for drama writing. How about I introduce you to a friend? My friend is very talented, an excellent playwright, with outstanding literary skills. Let me put it this way, he will definitely be the best playwright in the country in the future. No one can surpass him. By the way, he might even become a poet."

Zoey and I exchanged a glance, and Zoey finally realized something was wrong.

The way he spoke didn't sound like a man in his thirties but like someone in their twenties still in college. This tone wasn't about his youthful state, but he really seemed to think he was in his twenties.

Alan would definitely be the best playwright in the country in the future. Alan was about the same age as him. When he graduated, he had clearly stated that he considered writing as a hobby and didn't plan to pursue it as a career. Alan had also mentioned these things to Zoey.

Most importantly, "he will definitely be the best playwright in the country in the future" was Bob's evaluation of him in college, and his tone just now was passionate and articulate as if he was saying it for the first time.

"Bob, who are you introducing?"

I asked tentatively.

"Alan, of course. You've been together for so long, you know him better than I do. It seems only men truly understand men. You're studying law, how could you understand the soul of writing."

As Bob spoke, he stepped on the gas pedal, and the car jolted before starting to move forward slowly. The engine was loud, like a green train.

My heart trembled, further confirming my suspicions. I squeezed Zoey's hand, signaling her not to ask any more questions.

Along the way, Bob complained about the decline of Shadow City and how inconvenient life was. I didn't ask any more questions.

After about half an hour, the car left the city and drove for another ten minutes or so in a town not far from the city, stopping on a small street.

Next to the street was a row of four-story buildings. The first floor was storefronts, with some restaurants and shops, and the second, third, and fourth floors were residential. These small buildings usually had only two floors, but the foundations were dug four or five floors deep. When the area developed, the owners added two more floors, creating extra space that could be rented or sold for a good profit.

But the scene in front of me seemed familiar, but I couldn't recall it immediately.

Bob didn't get out of the car. He tossed the car keys to me, smiling, "The room on the right on the third floor. Go up and open the door yourself. It's not your first time here. I'm going to buy some groceries. Although I'm a master of kitchen arts, I can't cook out of thin air."

Zoey looked at me and then at Bob, already scared by the strange conversation.

"Bob."

I was a bit nervous, pursed my lips, and smiled, "My phone is dead. What time is it now?"

"Four-thirty in the afternoon." Bob glanced at his watch, "I guess I'll be back in a few minutes. The market isn't far from here."

"What month?"

"December, almost New Year's. Nancy, are you frozen silly?"

"What year?"

"2012."

With that, the car sped away.

"Mrs. Smith, what's wrong with Bob?"

Zoey's face was pale. She hadn't said much since noticing something was wrong in the car, especially when Bob talked to her. She stammered, clearly scared.

"He's stuck in time."

"Anyway, let's go to the third floor first. We still need one last piece of evidence. If it's true, then my guess is correct."

I said, holding Zoey's hand to comfort her, "Were you scared just now?"

Zoey nodded, thought for a moment, and then shook her head, "My dad said the more bizarre it is, the closer you are to the truth. That's a good thing."

"Your dad would be proud of you."

"Mrs. Smith, the last piece of evidence you mentioned, is it my dad's informant at the old steel mill?"

As they climbed the stairs, Zoey asked.

"Not entirely. It's another person. If this person is who I think she is, then Bob's problem can be solved."