Chapter 提醒 今天 是 六 更

Though Chen Yingxiong was helping, though the entire English media was discussing and hyping it, though more and more people were joining in to help him find this particularly commemorative ticket...

The ticket was as if it had disappeared from the world, never to be seen again.

As time passed, more and more people began to give up—after all, they also had their own work and lives, and couldn't put all their energy into finding a ticket to serve someone else. If they found it, there would be a reward, but if they didn't, it was just volunteer work.

And it wasn't just the number of people giving up that was increasing.

A voice had begun to emerge and was quickly becoming a consensus in everyone's heart. Even Samuel Mertz already knew.

That was that the ticket was gone, either burned or soaked and then washed into the sewers with the rain that night, eventually being swept into the sea...

Ten days had passed, and there was still no news.

Bascombe came over once to comfort the poor Mertz. This comfort meant that even he was giving up the effort to continue searching.

"We mobilized so many people, for ten whole days, without any clues..."

He didn't continue.

Mertz nodded, "I understand, thank you, Mr. Bascombe."

Bascombe was worried when he saw the old man's listless response. He asked, "What do you plan to do in the future, Mr. Mertz?"

Mertz shook his head, his eyes blank.

Bascombe really sympathized with this old man because they were both Liverpool fans. He could understand one hundred percent what the old man's feelings had been during these ten days.

But what could he do? He couldn't conjure up Mertz's ticket out of thin air, could he?

If you can't find it, you can't find it.

Although the reality was cruel, it had to be accepted.

He certainly knew that for Mertz, losing his son at Hillsborough Stadium was already a major blow in his life, and now even the relics his son left behind were lost... He could imagine that, in the long twenty-five years, this ticket had probably played the role of his son in the old man's heart.

In his previous contact with the old man, he had gradually learned the story of this family.

Because of his son's accident, he had severed contact with his son's wife and grandson. Because his daughter-in-law believed that it was he who wanted to take his son to watch that game, and as a result, the father-in-law was fine, but her husband was forever left in that stadium. How could she not resent her father-in-law?

She left the family with her child and completely stopped contacting the old man.

Two years ago, his wife, who had been with him all along, also passed away. Since the death of her child, his wife had been depressed, and her health deteriorated day by day.

Now he was the only one left in this house. The ticket was like his son to him, a way to remember him through an object.

But now that the ticket was gone, he had lost his son again...

Faced with this poor old man, Bascombe was also powerless. He put his hand on his shoulder, "My condolences."

After whispering these words, he got up to leave.

The old man didn't see him out. When Bascombe went out, he looked back. In the dim house, the old man was sitting alone on a somewhat dilapidated sofa, motionless, like a marble statue.

Bascombe pursed his lips tightly and finally turned and left this lifeless house.

※※※

Not long after Bascombe left, Dougal arrived.

He was there to report the latest situation to the old man—although there really wasn't any latest situation.

But he had to come every two days.

I'm afraid it's not just as simple as telling him the latest situation. There was only the old man left in this house, and he always had some faint worries in his heart.

After all, this old man was alone now, what if he couldn't withstand the blow of losing the ticket and did something stupid?

He always had to come and see if he was still okay.

Dougal was surprised to find that the door wasn't closed in front of the house. He was stunned for a moment and walked in quickly.

When he saw the old man sitting on the sofa facing the door, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Mr. Mertz." He walked in and turned on the lights in the living room, finally bringing some light to this dim room.

Mertz heard Dougal's voice, raised his head and looked at him, his eyes empty and confused.

Seeing him like this, Dougal knew that someone must have come to tell the old man the "truth" that was circulating outside now.

In fact, he also wanted to tell the old man about this matter. In any case, it was not possible to always live in fantasy. People had to face reality in order to live bravely. So he was going to tell Mr. Mertz this cruel fact.

But now he changed his mind.

Because he felt that his reasoning was only useful for young people and middle-aged people because their lives were still very long, at least ten or twenty years to live. Naturally, they needed to face reality and live well.

But the elderly were different. They were already in their twilight years. At this age, sometimes illusory fantasies might be the greatest motivation to support them to live.

Even if they knew it was fake, so what?

At this time, was the truth really that important?

So the words changed when they reached his lips.

"I'm here to tell you good news, Mr. Mertz!" His voice was eight degrees higher, and of course there was some trembling in it. After all, he was deceiving an old man, and it didn't feel good...

Sure enough, when he heard this sentence, a light flickered in the old man's eyes, and his eyes widened a little.

The power of hope is really great... even if it's just false hope.

Seeing this scene, Dougal sighed in his heart.

"Yes, it's good news. I think... we may have a clue about your ticket..."

The light in the old man's eyes grew stronger.

Dougal suddenly wanted to slap himself in the face because he seemed to have pushed himself into a dead end, making himself a little bit stuck.

Where did he have any clues? He had no idea at all!

But to comfort the old man, he blurted it out.

He was afraid that the old man would grab him to inquire about more details, and if he couldn't answer them, wouldn't he be exposed? That would only hurt the old man even more...

Thinking of this, he quickly said to Mertz, "I'm just here to tell you about this, Mr. Mertz. Now I have to rush over to continue the investigation..."

After speaking, he turned around and fled.

He didn't even look back at Mr. Mertz because he was afraid that after seeing Mr. Mertz's face full of hope because of his lies, the guilt in his heart would be even greater.

※※※

When he escaped from Mr. Mertz's house, it was already dusk.

Dougal stood by the side of the road, looking up at the sky.

He felt that he had done something wrong, something very cruel.

Where did he have any clues? It was just nonsense. As time passed, he would always be exposed. He would have to come again in two days because if he didn't come, Mr. Mertz would probably be able to guess what happened.

At that time, how sad and desperate would Mr. Mertz be when he found out that he had been deceived? And beside him, there was not a single person who could comfort him, persuade him, or enlighten him. Then what stupid things would he do?

Dougal shuddered, and he didn't dare to think about it anymore.

Although he was an Everton fan, he fully understood the feelings of a survivor of the Hillsborough tragedy for that ticket.

You should know that their pain was not only fixed on the afternoon of April 15, 1989, but has continued, becoming deeper and heavier with the accumulation of time, suffocating many people.

Now this small ticket has become his only spiritual sustenance.

To give him hope and then shatter his hope is the most cruel approach for the person involved.

But now it was too late for him to regret it. Could he still turn back and say to Mertz, "I'm sorry, forget what I just said, I was kidding you! I saw that you were in a bad mood just now, so I made a joke with you..."

Of course, that wouldn't work.

He was really forced into a dead end! And he forced himself!

Dougal stood by the side of the road, looking bitter.

But he suddenly remembered what he had said to Mr. Mertz when he first learned that Mr. Mertz had lost a ticket from Hillsborough Stadium.

—Don't worry, Mr. Mertz. I swear I will find this ticket for you!

Yes, he swore, how could he break his promise?

He had to do something, didn't he? He couldn't just sit still, could he? There were still two days...

Dougal began to desperately think of a way, at least to be able to have a clear conscience.

The potential of human beings is actually infinite, but it often doesn't erupt until the end of the road.

Now, Dougal had forced himself to the end of the road. So he could also enjoy the benefits of forcing himself to the end of the road...

His mind suddenly flashed.

In the early stage, everyone analyzed many possibilities, and felt that the garbage truck was the biggest suspect, and the garbage disposal plant was also the most likely destination.

They went to investigate the garbage disposal plant and the garbage truck, but they didn't find any clues.

But why... didn't anyone think of looking along the road from Goodison Park Stadium to the garbage disposal plant? Maybe there would be some clues?

Yes, why?

Was it because the workload was too large?

Never mind!

Although there were only two days left, now was not the time to make excuses!

Since time was limited, then he would start looking for it now!

No sooner said than done, Dougal returned to his car, started, turned, and U-turned towards Goodison Park Stadium.

Just like that, an Everton fan embarked on a journey to find a ticket for a Liverpool fan.

But this had nothing to do with their respective camps. This was a story about a man's promise to another man.