Journey to another world in the subway

Chapter 142 Treasures
His subconscious only occasionally let him go for a few hours, allowing him to wander into the tranquility of his youth.

He had to wander the sweeping area over and over again.

For him, one of the best dreams is that he suddenly found an untouched apartment with miraculously well-preserved appliances and books.

He fell asleep, wishing he could go back to the past, even if it was the days when he just met Sasha's mother.

He was also only 20 years old at the time, but he had already become the commander of the station garrison.

The station at that time was only a temporary shelter for the people living in it, not a communal simple house built on the mine by the convicts in which they wanted to end their lives.

How can he go back to the past?

He was thrown into the memory fragments of 5 years, and his fate was changed in 5 years. What's more frightening is that even his daughter's fate was also changed.

Reason told him to compromise with fate, to accept his fate, to compromise with this terrible exile, but every time he dozed off, there was a voice of vengeance crying in his heart.

He stood again in front of his team of fighters armed with Kalashnikov rifles, and as an officer, he was wearing a Makarov pistol, and he was only suitable to shoot himself in the forehead at the last moment to end himself in battle. .

In this station, apart from the 20 fighters behind him, he is already the highest ranking person.

The crowd was in an uproar, with dozens of hands grabbing the obstacles and shaking them back and forth, making an unpleasant noise.

Suddenly, they stopped making noise again and started a harmonious chorus, as if an invisible baton was directing them.

Right now they're just asking him to retire, but in a few minutes they're going to ask for his head.

This parade was not accidental and unorganized, but an action planned by the moles who were sent here.

It seems too late to find them one by one and eliminate them.

In order to quell this riot and retain power, the only thing he can do now is to order firing on the crowd.

It's not too late.

His fingers were tightly clenched into fists, his pupils moved uneasily under his slightly swollen eyelids, his lips trembled, and he couldn't even hear the orders he gave.

He fell into a black pool of water, which grew bigger and bigger, as if to swallow his dying life.

Before long, he will slowly sink down.

into that endless darkness.
-
And Sasha, who was exploring outside, was disgusted by the ugly corners of the mouths of those people in front of her.

After quickly escaping from their sight, he held the bag in his pocket, thinking about the first time he saw it.

Beauty saves the world, her father joked.

Sasha blushed, pulled the bag full of pictures out from under the tea powder, and hid it in the jacket pocket of her overalls.

The plastic square box where green tea was stored a long time ago still exudes a faint green tea fragrance, which is her most precious thing.

Equally precious, are the stories about the world not yet imprisoned in this station—the station like a headless creature.

This station with four truncated tunnels, this station dug 4 meters below Moscow, a city as dead as a cemetery—a memory from time to time!

There is also the magical arbitrary door, which can lead Sasha through 10 years and thousands of meters of space.

And something infinitely more important.

In such a humid environment, any paper would wither very quickly like a consumptive person.

Rot and mold ate away not just the books but the magazines as well, they gnawed away the entire past.

Without images and audiovisuals, it is like a lame person losing his crutches, and the memory of the entire human being is suddenly stuck and scattered.

But the bag was made of plastic, and corrosion and time had not eaten away at it.

Her father had told Sasha that it would take thousands of years for it to decompose, and she felt that her work could be passed on as a legacy.

Although the painting is miniature, it is a real work.

The bag comes off the production line with gleaming gold edging, and there's a stunning sight in this gold-lit drawer:

Steep cliffs stand in the psychedelic smog, and the luxuriant pines and cypresses are almost hanging on the vertical cliffs, and the rising sun casts a bright red glow...

Sasha had never seen a more beautiful or moving image in her young life.

She could sit there for long periods of time without moving, with the bag in her hand, admiring it obsessively.

Her eyes were drawn to the distant mountains shrouded in mist in the dawn.

Before her father's collection of books was exchanged for ammunition, she read them all in one go.

Those words and sentences can just explain her state of mind at this time. It is the state of mind of looking at the cliffs a few centimeters high and breathing the fragrance of pine and cypress branches on the screen. She can't read enough.

It's a vision of the world that is completely unattainable, and because of that, it's magical and captivating.

This is a kind of sweet sadness, eternal expectation, she always sees the beautiful sunrise at the first time...

The painting stopped abruptly, and she was always wondering what kind of scenery was hidden behind the hateful tea trademark.

Is it a different tree, an eagle's nest, or a hut on the edge of a cliff where she and her father can live happily?
It was he who brought the bag home one day when Sasha was not yet 5 years old.

For the father and daughter at the time, this was a completely new item!

While the real tea leaves surprised my daughter, who drank it manly like swallowing medicine, the tea bag really surprised her.

He even had to explain to her that it was just a simple print.

It is an old-fashioned Chinese landscape painting, which is suitable for printing on the outer packaging of tea.

But 10 years have passed, and 15 years have passed, and Sasha's expression when looking at this painting is still as obsessed as the day she received the gift.

For the father, the bag was the only substitute for all the joys his daughter had been deprived of during her teenage years, all through his fault as a father.

As Sasha drifted into the blissful trance she entered into the fantasy world of the less successful artist's graffiti, her father sensed that she seemed to be blaming him for his short, barren and pale life.

He had a burning desire, and he was always trying to drive it away, but he couldn't help it for a long time, and he couldn't hide his anger.

He'd asked Sasha hundreds of times what gems she'd found on this little packet she'd found in tea dust!
And Sasha always hurriedly hid this little treasure in her tool pocket, and replied submissively:

"Dad, it looks so beautiful to me!"

(End of this chapter)