After swallowing a sip of saliva, he didn't care to think about anything else. He casually changed his clothes, went out and headed directly towards the nearby market.

Every old population gathering place has a market, and they are pretty much the same.

One after another, dilapidated self-built houses stand at a height that should not be reached. They are connected in a row and spread to places visible to the naked eye in the distance. They seem to be hives housing bees who work hard to collect honey, and they also seem to be an abnormality in the city.

Organization.

The yellow-painted exterior walls have turned black after years of exposure to wind and rain, the air conditioners are in disarray, and the unruly security windows have clothes and flower pots hanging on them and attached to the walls.

The street is squeezed between the two rows of buildings.

There are four or five trash cans placed together at the intersection, all of which are overflowing and still undisposed of. Countless flies surround them, buzzing and buzzing. I don’t know how many types of black garbage are mixed with them.

The extremely foul-smelling sewage formed together seeped into the cement, staining it with a huge stain that could not be washed away.

Further inside, various sugarcane bagasse, fruit peels, and plastic bags stained with chili oil are scattered on the cement road, which are stepped on by people.

All kinds of hawking and bargaining sounds are mixed together, the buzzing, low-quality perfume, the aroma of braised vegetables, the burning of starch intestines without any meat, the bad oral odor that is difficult to clean up from poverty, cumin and chili, made of

A pot is boiling.

The vendor standing behind the oil-stained and soot-black dining cart unabashedly lifted the cheap gutter oil from his feet, poured it into the pot, and wiped the oil off the mouth of the pot.

With a bright face on his face, the inferior loudspeaker on the front of the car shouted louder.

People of different shapes and colors, dressed in ordinary and cheap clothes, but with the only dignity they have.

With a small amount of money in my pocket, I walked around intently, not knowing what to buy. I inadvertently passed by the things I liked. I weighed the amount repeatedly in my mind and thought about how to speak without showing any timidity.<

/p>

The crying of children, the scolding of adults, the sour play between lovers, the false etiquette of meeting acquaintances, the blushing and thick necks of small business stalls, the chattering, students in a hurry, pretending to be disabled

The beggar is sitting on a cart with a deformed body and is singing pitifully with the internet celebrity holding a video camera who is thinking about himself and being rude...

In the corner facing the sun, there is an old man wearing black, untimely heavy clothes, with his hands in his cuffs, and wearing a mask of ignorance, numbness, slowness, and lifelessness. He looks like a corpse, sitting on a chair.

, basking in the sun, watching the excitement greedily, holding a pipe in his mouth, puffing away smoke skillfully.

Under the dilapidated buildings on the street, the gaudy and dilapidated signboards could no longer block the blackened iron frame behind them. The young lady in cool clothes sat under the beauty salon sign that was as conspicuous as herself, her fiery eyes staring at the potential people passing by like a hunter.

Guests, waving and shouting without any scruples.

It aroused everyone's surprise and disgust, but they became accustomed to it. They carefully and quickly turned around, not daring to change their expressions at all, suppressing the throbbing in their hearts, which was absolutely hot.

This is the most brilliant game between life and death.

Zhang Lingjun was huddled at a roadside stall selling snacks next to a sugar cane stall. He was polishing disposable chopsticks in his hands and shaking a short wooden bench that was cracked and tightly tied with wires under his buttocks. He smiled and took it carefully.

The chubby boss said hello while 'delivering' rice noodles in plastic bags with the bold and eclectic style unique to the lower class people.

There was no table, so I just held it with my hands and took a deep breath of hot air.

Roll your throat and swallow the secreted saliva.

Looking up, the sun shines golden on the glass outside the towering building in the distance.

Quietly, what I have been worrying about, what I can't help but think about even if I am hungry and planning to eat, is the things that may be involved behind the previous case, the trouble that may be caused, and the relationship between the black policeman and Old John.

Tiredness after the collision of ideas...

The sadness of the sudden death of Ruan Xing, a very familiar acquaintance, is like a creature of its kind...

The bizarre complexity of this case and the mysteries that remain unsolved...

The seemingly powerful perceptions of the deceased and the murderer, the noise related to their own strong perceptions, as well as cults and sacrifices.

One by one, these things are constantly colliding, twisting, and knotting into a mess in my head. I can't figure it out and it makes me exhausted. All the distracting thoughts are washed away by the breath of life.

Disappear.

I love this world.

I love the people here.

"Bliss..."

I love pho.

…

"Have a bowl of cat meat, a big portion."

Suddenly, a sharp sound, like the friction of glass, like the noise heard in the surveillance before, sounded in my ears.

Zhang Lingjun couldn't help but stop what he was doing, frowned slightly, and turned his head to look.

I saw a familiar and strange-looking short man coming to the stall at some point.

He is at most 1.5 meters tall, not much taller when standing than when sitting. His whole body is pale and without any blood, as if he has been living in the dark underground and has never been exposed to sunlight.

He has a thin body, and his bare arms can be seen to be covered with skin and bones. His arms are very short and can barely reach his hips. The same goes for his legs, but his fingers are extremely long, and his nails have grown into columns, bent into hooks, and polished to a sharp point. Not surprising.

That can cut open the flesh.

What is extremely asymmetrical with the limbs is the body. The body is larger than ordinary people. The belly is very fat, as if it is dragging a belly full of oil. The back is thick and has thick muscles, like a gas tank with four legs, and it seems to be a

A big fat mouse.

Above the body is a matching face, twisted, ugly, but suitable.

The eyes are only the size of normal human pupils, slightly bulging outward, and the gray-white eyes are like two small beads on the face.

You can feel the turbidity in it, and it feels like you are dead. If you are not blind, you are half-blind. I don’t know what else you can see clearly.

However, his movements were not affected at all. He did not have any crutches, guide sticks, or anyone to accompany him, but he stood there calmly and calmly, no worse than a normal person.

This means that other perceptions are powerful.

This is why Zhang Lingjun couldn't help but look at him. He didn't even notice this guy approaching until he made a sound. Not only was his footsteps terrifyingly light, but his perception was also suppressed.

But looking at the thin and big ears, they look like two cattail fans, with many fine downs growing on them. They are trembling slightly, and they are vigilant to the naked eye, as if they are catching all the movements in all directions at any time.

Because the mouth protrudes forward, the nose is pulled in front of the lips. It looks like a pig's nose, but it is sharper. The pointed tip seems to be a knife that can cut through any obstruction. It is constantly twitching and sniffing.
Chapter completed!