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Chapter 143 Introduction

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    The silent night is wrapped in thick fog, which brings a mysterious color to the winter night in the small town.

    A man staggered out of the tavern on the corner of the street, holding a bottle of beer in his left hand, and when he stepped out of the tavern gate, he stretched out his right hand and touched the face of the young lady at the tavern door with a flirtatious touch.

    Xu Niang didn't resist either, the thick white face couldn't hide the face full of grooves, and the scattered red lips flashed an evil color under the night: "Cripple, it's so cold, sister  I need a warm quilt tonight, will you come?"

    The man waved his hand in disgust: "No, no, isn't yours here? The old man doesn't like it, it's very frustrating."

    Xu Niang was not quite reconciled, and her voice had a kind of naughty grunt: "Sister likes to fight bloody battles, come on, sister is waiting for you."

    "No, no, I don't like it, don't be mean, dark, dark"

    Xu Niang's face changed: "Pretend to be a thumper, cut it, I thought my old lady was willing to wait on you."

    The man chuckled twice: "Sister, don't be too dedicated to your work. When my aunt comes, I will have fun with her for two days. I will come back when your aunt leaves. You will be indispensable."

    Xu Niang turned her anger into joy: "Your son must keep his word."

    "I lied to you as a grandson. Your grandson has never said anything different."

    "Get out, don't cut off my life, I won't be able to give birth to a grandson as big as you."

    The man was tall and thin, wearing a black short coat with a sense of time, his white face showed a handsome ruffian in the night, but it was obvious that there was something wrong with his left foot, and he was limping when he walked.

    During this limping, there was a little regret.

    Things that are too perfect will make people feel lifeless, and incomplete beauty is even more memorable.

    Just as he was limping like this, he really couldn't hide the masculine charm exuding from his whole body.

    The small, dilapidated wooden house across the street looked out of place with the neat two-story buildings around it.

    The cripple entered the door crookedly carrying a wine bottle. The only decent piece of furniture in the room was a bamboo recliner with sponge cushions. The man collapsed on it, humming a ditty while sucking  liquor.

    Before the half bottle of beer was finished, the wooden door that had just closed creaked, and a black figure squeezed in. Under the dim light, the cripple raised the beer bottle in his hand, behaving humanely.

    "You, you are here, right, just to drink with me, take a few sips."

    The visitor stared fixedly at the lame man with a livid face.

    "Drink a hammer, how can I be in the mood to drink?"

    The cripple had a pockmarked smile on his white face, not to mention, such a smile made this pretty white face more vivid and charming.

    God favored him, he was born with such a face that women like.

    "You, you man! It's so boring. Life is unsatisfactory nine out of ten times. Take it easy and enjoy yourself in time is the wisest choice. You see, I'm already crippled. If I live like you  Ba, I have long been unable to think about jumping into the West River to die many times."

    This sentence is not unreasonable. How many things can really make people happy in this world?

    Most of the time, it is the bitter and indescribable taste of the dumb eating yellow lotus.

    But what the cripple said this night was particularly harsh to the ears of the visitors, his voice trembling with excitement.

    "Basing your happiness on the pain of others is your standard of pleasure?"

    The lame man smiled charmingly again, and he spurted out a strong sense of alcohol as he spoke.

    "You, where did you say that? Me, my life principle is that it is better to have fun alone than to have fun with others, and to have fun together is the highest state of life."

    He groped under the chair for a while, and found out a half bottle of Erguotou.

    "It's so cold, what are you doing, why bother? Come, come and have a drink with brother, let's get drunk."

    "Drink your uncle, I want you to drink with Lord Yan."

    The visitor's right hand, which had been behind his back, moved to the front of him. The cripple rubbed his drunken eyes, and after looking for a long time, he saw clearly that a thick stick was held in the visitor's hand. The shadow of the stick under the incandescent lamp brought  With strong hatred.

    The cripple wanted to sit up, but his body became weak, and he tried several times without success.

    "You, you, why are you doing this? Force can't solve any problems, yes, can't you just talk about it if you have something to say?"

    "What's the point of talking to a beast? Fuck you, go to hell, there are plenty of little ghosts to chat with you."

    The person who came was so angry that he didn't want to say a word. He raised his hand and dropped his axe. On that drunken face, there was a wonderful pen blooming, an exquisite painting, vivid in the night

    On the street in the middle of the night, someone came with a bloody stick, staggering and gradually disappearing into the thick fog.

    The praying mantis catches the cicada, and the oriole follows behind.

    When the figure of the visitor disappeared, a figure flashed out from the alley next to it.

    The visitor deliberately disguised himself with a black hooded coat and a big hat covering his entire head, like a devil haunting the night in a suspense film.

    Can't see his true face.

    He dodged into the half-open door, and the man inside was lying on the ground, with an obvious scar on his forehead, bleeding out.

    The man had a good-looking face, grinned his big white teeth, and touched the wound on his forehead with one hand.

    The other hand was still holding the bottle of Erguotou. At this moment, he was still drinking. After taking a sip of the wine, he smiled at the person who came.

    "Tonight, my humble house is really lively. Is the sun coming out from the west? You actually came to my place in the middle of the night."

    The person who came did not speak, but stepped forward to help the drunk man up and sat on the chair.

    The man seemed excited.

    "Come on, come and have a drink with me."

    The man still didn't speak, he took out two bottles of beer from the cabinet in the corner, opened one and handed it to the man.

    He picked up another bottle and gulped down most of it by himself.

    The man grinned, holding the beer bottle and gulping it all.

    "You, you've never been fucking better than today. Come on, have another bottle."

    The visitor still didn't speak, then drank up the wine in the bottle, and then stared fixedly at the man.

    Half an hour later, the man half-lyed on the chair, his whole body began to twitch, foaming at the mouth.

    The man stood up and creaked the wooden door shut.

    Picking up an ax from the corner of the wall, he slammed the man's cap and kicked him to the ground.

    Then, the man was dragged to the back door. Most of the buildings on the street are like this, and the back door is a cesspool.

    The man thumped in the sticky cesspit and was completely submerged in the dung water.

    Someone came and closed the back door, went back to the room, and cleaned up everything, including the pool of blood on the ground.

    Then he disappeared into the night with a backpack on his back.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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