第五章 警匪片里的真实人生

"搞乜嘢呀你！"一声粗嘎的粤语吼声在林风耳边炸开，他猛地一颤，脑袋更疼了，像被颗地雷直接钻了个洞。他一个激灵，刚支起身子，就感觉眼前发黑，差点又栽回床上。"唔好动啊你，酒还未醒……"旁边传来一个略带压低的咳嗽声。 林风眯着眼睛，晃了晃脑袋。这是哪儿？ Memory fragments swam in his mind: a blurry image of a bustling street, the scent of roasted meat, and a voice yelling, "Brother, order quick! The special today is offal rice!" Then, a catastrophic explosion... and darkness. He'd apparently been in a bar fight that went wrong. "Ah Man, you awake yet?" a voice nearby asked, laced with a hint of concern. It was a young man, maybe early twenties, wearing a worn-out denim jacket over a t-shirt. 林风 tried to focus. He was on a narrow bed in what looked like a... subdivided flat? Flimsy particleboard walls, a single bare bulb flickering overhead. The air smelled faintly of cigarettes and something else... burnt sugar? "水..." he mumbled, his throat dry as sandpaper. The young man fumbled with a small bottle of mineral water on the nightstand and pushed it towards him. "Drink up. Head's spinning."