The early morning of Wednesday, the seventh week of the election
"What time is it? I'll sleep a little longer" Fang Bingsheng vaguely felt someone pushing him in his dream. He muttered reluctantly, unable to open his eyes.
But the person who pushed him persisted and just pushed and screamed. Fang Bingsheng finally opened his eyes helplessly, and then turned his head away due to the glare of the glass lamp in front of him. At this time, he could clearly hear stationmaster Lu's whisper in his ears. :
"Mr. Fang, wake up, the big boss has sent you an urgent telegram There is also another express telegram ordering me to send it to you immediately Why don't you get up and take a look?"
Groaning, Fang Bingsheng sat up from the mosquito net, shook his head, and knocked his sleepiness away. He woke up and saw the stationmaster Lu standing outside the mosquito net with a glass lamp, nodding and bowing to him.
"Where's the telegram? What's written?" Fang Bingsheng reached out from the mosquito net to ask for it.
"I don't know. One is a secret message, and the other is for me to wake you up immediately. Of course, for a telegram of this level, I will definitely wake you up. This is the system" Stationmaster Lu himself also With red eyes, it seemed that he had been awakened by his subordinates, and he handed over a stack of paper in his hand.
Seeing the dense numbers on the paper, Fang Bingsheng woke up with a start. He hurriedly got out of bed and walked to the table, his eyes just staring at the numbers, as if he could directly read the meaning.
Stationmaster Lu looked at the silk pajamas on Fang Bingsheng with some envy. This thing was fashionable and expensive. I heard it was popular in the upper-class circles. He even slept in his underpants. This ecstasy made him slow down for a moment. He didn't wake up until Fang Bingsheng turned his back to him. He immediately rushed over, put the glass oil lamp in his hand on the table, turned it to the brightest, and diligently pulled up a chair to wait for Fang Bingsheng to sit down in front of the desk. He looked at Fang Bingsheng's expression. Facing the enemy's expression, he smiled obediently and said: "Mr. Fang, if you are too sleepy, can I decode the message for you? The message the big boss sent this time is very long. Just give me the key." ."
Fang Bingsheng turned to look at him, and said with some approval: "It's okay, I'll decode it myself. It's okay, you can step back. I'll call you if I need anything."
Stationmaster Lu nodded slightly, straightened up again, swatted the mosquitoes in the air a few times, and then turned around and left.
Fang Bingsheng immediately started translating and decoding, becoming more and more nervous as he read through it. Finally, beads of sweat appeared on his forehead: He guessed right, Weng Jianguang's scumbag grandson estimated that the enemy was too powerful this time, and he had no choice but to be defeated by Yi Cheng. Attracted by the poisonous plan, he still wanted to kill people, frame him and discredit the Liberal Party, and make a desperate attempt to offset the pressure from the Army and Song Deling factions in the court.
The cable said: After Weng Jianguang returned to the capital, he went to Zhong Jialiang's house without saying a word, hoping to cooperate with the Western Medicine Guild on this matter; but Zhong Jialiang wanted to use Longmei thread to get him, and sternly scolded Weng Jianguang not to participate in the sacred election. The fact that China engages in such dirty deeds directly shows that the foreign medicine guild will never be involved in such horrific crimes.
However, in the end, Chung Chia-leung did not insist on his words, and said that the Liberal Party has a great reputation, and if you can¡¯t handle them, the Long-Mei Line may have to be repaired. This is simply to let Song You Tiedian do this shameless and evil deed by himself, and he will reap the fruits of victory in vain.
Weng Jianguang was like a snake that had been pinched seven inches. He had no choice but to vent his anger with insults, so he spent a whole page scolding Zhong Jialiang and paying tribute to all his ancestors for eight lifetimes. This made the translator Fang Bingsheng miserable. , they were all reading "Damn him", "Damage him" and so on. I didn't dare not to read it because this telegram was too important and I was afraid that key information would be missed.
¡° Then in the telegram, Weng Jianguang mentioned that he had been thinking about it for a long time and consulted several adults, but he still had to do this. Otherwise, the Liberal Party would be galloping all the way to the end, and his side would have no weapons to resist, and would be at a disadvantage.
He used his connections to find a professional killer overnight and asked him to take the train to Longchuan.
Because the election was about to end, he had to be in a hurry and didn't have much time to plan. He directly hired a long-gun sniper to shoot Pan Jinxing to death from a distance.
I also considered mixing in the crowd and shooting at close range. This is actually more secure, but the killer circle is no longer the same as the illiterate people in the past. People also read newspapers and buy lottery tickets. As soon as I heard that I was going to Longchuan to fuck that Qing man, I immediately Said: "Longchuan is now a national sensation. Is it a suitable place to do this? I will snipe from a long range. After one blow, regardless of whether it is hit or not, I will retreat immediately. I will never do any knife work (short-range people** Kill), if you don¡¯t want to use it, find someone else.¡±
"Because although shooting at close range is safe, you have to look at the killer's courage - when things get close, the killer himself doesn't dare anymore and turns around and runs away - this is veryLook, are the strokes the same? Are they the same characters? Don't say I lied to you.
But 10 minutes later, when Pheasant came back with the copy of the document and his head drooped, Fang Bingsheng didn¡¯t even have the intention to make fun of Pheasant.
At 7:30 in the morning, I sat in the front hall of Yicheng's bedroom next door, waiting for Yicheng to come out. As a wealthy man, Yicheng got up very late, and he was so pretentious that he insisted on having breakfast in bed like a foreigner. Foreigners eat. Bread and milkshake, what the hell, he was eating fried dough sticks and bean juice in bed, but the style was the same, and now he heard a noisy breakfast going on inside.
But Fang Bingsheng did not yell at Yicheng to vent his anger. He was in a trance, and his hands were clenched into fists convulsively and trembling.
He was still thinking about the last words of the boss. Although there was no literary talent, this straightforward confession of belief in wealth moved the literary man Fang Bingsheng - no matter whether rich or poor, noble or humble, who doesn't want this? If you don't have the courage, you will suffer from poverty, if you have the courage, you will die, just like Song You Tiedian's fortune-making process in recent years.
Who wants to spend their whole life digging in the dirt like a chicken? Just like most poor people in Longchuan, or like Fang Bingsheng's father and relatives - the kind of life where they walk barefoot in the mud, sleep in an adobe house, watch the moon and rain on the roof, and dream of being rich and riding in a sedan chair. , Fang Bingsheng never wants to live again, just like his boss doesn't want to step on the soil of Longchuan again.
When the servant carried the low table out and Yi Cheng came out in a suit and leather suit to meet the guests, he politely said: "Oh, I kept you waiting for a long time", Fang Bingsheng clenched his fist and responded: "Let the chicken die."