Simulate the operation of Beebo Street

Yokohama Industrial Wasteland.

The people of Yokohama, who have always been proud of the cleanliness and modernity of their hometown, probably don't know that such a place exists on this land, let alone the tourists.

Although anyone who has the opportunity to overlook the panorama of Yokohama from the air knows exactly where it is.There is no other reason, the chaotic color blocks that are neither green nor concrete buildings are too conspicuous.

Different from ordinary dumps, everything here is huge, and there is a sense of architectural art in the mess.

The ten-meter-long steel is like a haphazardly bundled iron rail, facing the sky or the ground, showing traces of rust red due to the corrosion of rainwater and other chemical reagents.Abandoned containers taller than a person were piled up randomly, like a castle at the end of civilization. The original bright paint on the box gradually peeled off, revealing the original appearance of the alloy.

When Sakamoto arrived, Dazai was sitting on top of the container castle.

He stared at the invisible sun hidden behind the heavy gray clouds in the distance, stepped on the edge of the box with one leg, and the other leg hung down casually, swinging slightly with the frequency of gusts of strong wind.

The melancholy Dazai appeared in this scene full of apocalyptic atmosphere, without any sense of disobedience.

Fine raindrops fell, blurring the picture.

"You're here."

Dazai turned his head, because it was completely against the light, he couldn't see his expression.

"I'm not feeling well today, so I didn't go to the store and ordered takeaway. Let me be lazy."

With one hand, he lightly fell on the container on the next floor. When he fell, his center of gravity moved down and his limbs touched the ground, silently like a cat.

He maintained that squatting posture, tilted his head and asked Sakamoto, who was standing there with a tent and looking around: "It's not easy to find here, is it?"

"really."

"Hehe, which box do you think my residence is?"

Sakamoto looked up.

Not far ahead, near the ground, there is a container tilted fifteen degrees, and the outer shell is painted with abstract patterns with colorful spray paint.

"That's my self-portrait!" Dazai had already come down from the castle and stood beside Sakamoto. He puffed out his chest and proudly said, "It looks good!"

Completely chaotic lines, color schemes with unknown meanings, and even facial features can't be found.

If it is an ordinary audience, it will have the above impressions.

But this is Sakamoto.

"So it's an abstract painting of the expressionist genre." He pushed his glasses, "It completely inherits the classic style of Edvard Munch."

"...What, what is that?" Dazai asked in an unhappy voice that he thought it was an original element, but there were gems in front of him.

"It is a popular painting genre in the early 20th century. It uses lines without perspective and bold colors to reflect the inner strong sensibility, and expresses fear and anxiety with distorted and abstract techniques."

Dazai walked past him, his eyes clearly showing that he was no longer interested in the topic.

"Why do you think I live here?"

"I understand, it's to keep the population density of Yokohama units stable." Sakamoto's lens reflected a white light, and he said in a firm tone.

"Huh?" Dazai was stunned for a moment, and his steps stopped because of this.After a few seconds, he laughed softly, a laugh that seemed to come from his chest.

"Hahahaha, your sense of humor is no less than that of Oda Saku, and your awareness of complaints is completely zero." He walked briskly forward, jumping between the piles of industrial materials on the ground.

He pulled open the half-hidden container door.

In a closed, rectangular space, it is easy to feel that you are in a shoebox when you stand in it—small, rough, and uncomfortable.There is no decoration on the ceiling, wall and floor, which is exactly the original appearance of the metal box.In the corner of the ceiling, a ventilation fan hummed, but it didn't help the stuffiness in the room - the sun-exposed and well-conducted ceiling naturally raised the temperature.

In addition to the sweltering heat, darkness ruled the room—a wireless desk lamp stood lonely in the corner of the desk, outlining a haze of light in which tiny figures of moths flickered.Other than that, most of them are hidden in a haze, and only a single bed can be vaguely recognized. There is a cardboard box next to the bed, and there are bunches of white things that look like bandages in the box.

"You don't look surprised at all." Dazai observed the expression of Sakamoto who followed into the room.

"Well, this is home design that combines industrial factory style and minimalist concept."

Sakamoto nodded slightly, and replied solemnly.

"Big impact design, feels inspired."

"It's great, Sakamoto-kun, you can always find new ideas that even I haven't thought of myself." Dazai said happily.

Sakamoto looked away, and put the takeaway bag in his hand on the corner of the desk.When he turned around, he was slightly taken aback: "Over there, there is some water leakage."

A small amount of rainwater flowed in through the cracks in the deformed container roof and dripped onto his single bed, leaving a small round gray stain.

"Dazai, sleeping on a wet bed will catch a cold." He reminded.

"So what? Maybe I'll be relieved because of the high fever?"

Dazai muttered casually, just came over and took out his beloved self-shark manual from under the pillow, and put it in the drawer of the desk with care.

Then I dragged the chair and sat down, and excitedly began to untie the takeaway bags.

"Crab Meat Fried Rice! Go! Go!"

"Please let me help you clean up the room."

"Huh? I don't think there's anything to clean up here." Dazai said while eating without raising his head, his voice was vague.

"This is an additional service for food delivery, please don't take it to heart." Sakamoto replied, "During the delivery, I have assisted in many tasks including but not limited to throwing out garbage, repairing light bulbs, taking care of babies, and doing math problems. Such a commission, a little tidying up the layout of the room is just a simple matter."

At this moment, a phone call interrupted Dazai's pleasant lunch, and he had to put down his chopsticks with a puffy face, lamenting that his ineffective subordinates went out to clean up the mess.

"There's nothing special here, and there's no organization's classified files. You're free to tidy up if you want. But why are you wasting your time delivering food on something like this?"

He reckoned that Sakamoto probably wanted to move the position of the bed, at most he would repair the ceiling again, and it was not a big deal.So he put on a black coat and left, closing the door of the container when he left.

When Dazai returned home at sunset, he found that Sakamoto hadn't left.

"What are you doing?" He asked, pointing to the unknown device outside the door.

"This is a swing chair made of discarded bed frames and old tires." Sakamoto turned his head and explained calmly, still wiping the outer edges of the tires with a white muslin cloth.

Wait, why would I need a swing?Why do you think I'm going on a swing?

Dazai had a question mark on his face, and suddenly had a bad premonition in his heart.

He jumped up and pushed open the box door.

Although he had prepared himself a little bit, Dazai was still dumbfounded when he saw the situation in the room.

This room has completely changed. Compared with the original appearance, it is as big a difference as a cake embryo and a handmade fondant cake by a master.

First, and easiest to notice, is the change in light source.On the top is an exquisite Arabian-style chandelier made of discarded colored glass bottles, casting mottled light and shadows in the room. Iron wire and strings of small light bulbs create an ins Internet celebrity style literary and artistic decoration wall.

And the windows—the new ones, too, quietly shed soft light, casting it obliquely onto the velvet-carpeted metal floor.Sakamoto carefully punched a hole in the container and embedded it into the window of the old car, which is clean and bright without leaking.It is worth mentioning that the blackout curtains by the windows are patchwork made of denim rags.

There are a few more pieces of furniture, including a one-person sofa transformed from a removed leather car seat and a small coffee table made of construction steel.

As well as a formal dining table and matching dining chairs, Dazai fumbled for a handle under the table, and it looked like the tabletop had once belonged to a door.

The wardrobe is quite ordinary in appearance.Dazai opened the cabinet door and found that several of his suits had been neatly ironed and hung up.

The branches of moderate thickness flattened the rough protrusions, and the curved wire hooks were inserted from the middle, and they were arranged in an uneven row above the wardrobe.

This is the original ecological hanger.

Compared with these jaw-dropping creative furniture, his new bed is simply very simple - the canopy bed he dragged at random has become a luxurious and spacious tatami.

"The combination of industrial waste wood, broken sponge pads and old curtains creates a comfortable wasteland-style bedding for you." Sakamoto, who did not know when he came in, explained behind him, "All the furniture in this renovation has been sterilized Sterilized, please use it with confidence."

"That's not the point! The question is, is this what you mean by simply dealing with it?"

"Please forgive me for my private modification." Sakamoto bowed slightly, "Because I also like this style very much, so I couldn't help but make some small designs to ensure the comfort of living."

Dazai was speechless, and stared at everything in front of him with the eyes of a stranger.

After standing blankly for a while, Dazai took a few steps closer, took a look at the bedside lamp converted from the headlights of a car, and then stopped in front of the display case under the decorative wall.

This is a wooden cabinet divided into many small compartments, and each compartment is neatly packed - bandages.

All kinds of bandages, which were originally randomly stacked in the bedside box, are now like display items in the window, exquisite and decent, shining brightly under the light from the decorative lamp.

"The bandages have been carefully arranged for you by size, thickness, brand, age and expiration date so they are easy to grab and use."

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Dazai shouted, holding his head, "It's terrible! Why did things turn out like this!"