Xiang Xi stuffed the money into the steamed bun's pocket and turned around and walked forward: "Don't tell me about that, do whatever you like, don't tell me, I don't know anything."

"I didn't make friends with you in vain." Mantou suddenly felt sobbing in his voice.

"Who is your friend?" Xiang Xi frowned and looked back at him, "Can you stop being pretentious?"

He continued to move forward silently. Xiang Xi cleared the remaining things in his wallet. A few bank cards were useless, and there was also an ID card. Xiang Xi took it out and took a look. Cheng perfunctorily.

What a broken name.

It is rare to see the photos on the ID card that can be considered a handsome guy. Xiang Xi tskated and threw the ID card into the mailbox when he turned the post office on the street corner, and then threw the cards in his wallet into the trash can.

Once you pinch your wallet, you will be very good-looking, and it is very new and kept.

After walking two steps, he stopped again, Cheng perfunctorily?

Or Cheng Boyan?

Xiang Xi had never been to school, and his characters were all studied at the card table and the fake blind man's yellow books. He could remember simple characters, but he could only remember complex characters.

Is it perfunctory or bohemian?

He turned around and walked back to the mailbox, looked in at the mailbox, and reached out to dig it in.

"What are you doing?" Mantou looked at him for no reason.

Xiang Xi circled the mailbox twice and kicked: "Forget it, go."

Cheng Boyan.

Who would name the child Perfunctory? It’s too perfunctory.

Because of the income, the two of them took a taxi back.

"Zhaojiayao." Xiang Xi reported the address in the back seat.

The driver looked back at them several times, then added: "Only to the intersection."

"I know." Xiang Xi said impatiently.

Zhaojiayao is a village in the city, with a large territory and outstanding ability to hide dirt and dirt. It is the most chaotic place in the city. Every day, gangsters from all walks of life are dedicated to performing the drama of "Let me not beat you to death".

Basically, every time I take a taxi back, the driver will make up this sentence and only reach the intersection.

There was a white street sign at the intersection, with the street name above and a small blue sign below, with three words written on it, strictly controlling the street.

The car parked in front of this sign, Xiang Xi opened the car door and jumped out of the car.

He didn't know when the brand was established, but it seemed that the brand had no other function except to convey to everyone that it was dangerous here.

And it’s not just this street, it should be renamed Yanguan District.

Mantou gave the car money and touched the pocket. He seemed to want to discuss the division of the more than 4,000 yuan in his pocket with Xiang Xi. Xiang Xi ignored him, said, "Don't touch the second plate of money" and turned around and walked in.

There are almost no street lights in the Zhaojia Kiln. The various wires that can almost cut the full moon into pieces seem to be just decorations. They rely on the lights that appear to be endless on both sides of the illegal buildings. They cannot see clearly those people on the streets and corners. Occasionally, they can hear yelling and scolding from somewhere and crying that suddenly rises octaves.

With this atmosphere, even if you walk in, just taking a look at the intersection can scare many people.

Uncle Ping has two self-built two-story buildings in the center of this area, No. 17, Dawali, Zhaojiayao, and some shops and rental houses, which are illegal.

Xiang Xi has been staying at the "home" for more than ten years.

As soon as I turned into the narrow street, I felt like the lower the terrain was. I pulled people down and kept going, and I couldn't breathe.

When there were about ten meters away from No. 17, a short scream came from the platform on the second floor next to it, followed by a man's roar: "Go to you!"

Before Xiang Xi could look up, a thin figure flew out from the second floor platform and fell heavily in front of Xiang Xi and Mantou.

The flying man who fell in front of Xiang Xi and Mantou was Li Hui, the daughter of Erpan's wife.

Li Hui's mother brought Li Hui over to live with Erpan. She said that this was Erpan's child, but Erpan refused to recognize him.

The fourteen-year-old girl is as thin as a little monkey. Xiang Xi always feels that when the wind is a little windy, she can be blown out of two miles.

The old houses are all low in height. Li Hui probably didn't fall too hard. She lay on the ground for a while and struggled to stand up.

Mantou looked upstairs, hesitated for two seconds, reached out to help him, Li Hui looked upstairs with some nervousness, pushed Mantou away, and stood under the wall.

"Oh," the voice of Erpan came from the platform on the second floor, "The steamed bun is so merciful again."

"Brother," Mantou seemed to be startled, raised his head and smiled, and ran into the house limply, "Brother, I have..."

Xiang Xi glanced at Li Hui, walked past her, and prepared to return to No. 17.

"Xiao Zhan," Li Hui called behind him, his voice hoarse and so low that he could hardly hear, "Save me."

Xiang Xi entered No. 17 without pause and closed the door with his backhand.

There are quite a lot of people in the house. Uncle Ping’s hobby is drinking tea and playing cards. Now he is sitting in the living room with a few people drinking tea. Xiang Xi knows him. Uncle Ping does not have a "criminal gang" in the strict sense. If there are, these people must be regarded as the main force in the gang.

"I'm back." Seeing him, Uncle Ping pinched the cup and said, drinking tea was very slow, and he looked enjoyable.

"Yes." Xiang Xi lowered his head and stood down on the side of the coffee table.

"I've grown up," Uncle Ping put down his cup and sighed long, "Now he dares to run back with empty hands."

Xiang Xi didn't say anything.

"This year is not over." Uncle Ping took another sip of tea and leaned on the sofa.

No one in the room said anything. He looked coldly and Xiang Xi was silent. Uncle Ping always spoke like this, unlike Erpan who was a little boss, who was like a free thug.

Uncle Ping always speaks slowly and makes money with kindness, but Xiang Xi knows that if he doesn't get the money back, he will be dealt with miserably.

"Have you eaten?" Uncle Ping asked.

"I just ate some," Xiang Xi looked at the corridor leading to the backyard on the first floor, "I had stomachache today."

"There is a stomachache again, what's wrong with your stomach?" Uncle Ping frowned, "There is still some hot soup in the kitchen, so go and have some drinks."

"Oh." Xiang Xi went into the kitchen and drank a bowl of soup.

Actually, he has no appetite now, but this soup must be drunk, so Uncle Ping must drink it if he asks him to drink it.

After drinking the soup, he walked down the corridor to the backyard and whistled.

The so-called backyard is not a yard, it is just a row of back doors opened by a row of self-built buildings, and a passage one meter away from the wall. It is very long, black and dirty.

After the whistle was blown, he heard Erpan's curse, cursing about Mantou.
Chapter completed!