Perfect Match

Click.

Then came a lonely cry: Squeak ---

The moment the door was opened, suffocated to the air deprived of oxygen, the dust that had been sleeping quietly for a year was disturbed and flew into the air, making him cough.

In this unpleasant smell, there was a hint of **** lily of the valley.

Chapter 35

The rental house was messy, tables and chairs tipped, and pillows rolled around. The cabinets were open, and each one was empty. Everything that was still available was taken away. At first glance, it seemed like a robbery scene.

Zheng Feiyu pushed the door and walked in. The first step was to step on some sharp hard object. Picking it up, it is a piece of broken ceramics, cream-colored, with a full cup handle and half a cup bottom, and about a dozen pieces of porcelain **** are scattered around. A lot of paint.

He looked at the broken porcelain in his hand, and at that moment, his memory suddenly cracked a deep mouth, leaking sounds and pictures.

...

Hida, can you get me some oil?

Hida, I never lied to you, you can trust me, right?

boom!

A thunderous thunder, the cup fell from the ground and fell apart. The window behind him came in a twilight, dark and bleak. In that narrow light, He An's face flashed, and Hitomi was full of panic.

...

Memories no longer be merciless for him. From entering the living room to dropping a cup, what happened every second, Zheng Feiyu remembered everything. Even after seeing the four small words under the cup handle, he remembered something else.

Blue card coffee.

This is the name of the coffee shop near He An's house.

A year ago, it was there that he had the only long talk with He An. Yuanjiang was in autumn at that time, and the temperature was very low, and a thin layer of frost formed in the early morning. He An sat opposite, leaning his head, covering his mouth, and coughed red. For courtesy, he called the waiter and ordered a cup of the most expensive Dutch hot cocoa on the menu. He An was flattered and carefully held the mug in his hand. It took a long time to lower his head and take a sip, as if he had never tasted such a delicious food.

At that time, Zheng Feiyu thought that He An was happy with the price of forty-five cups. This joy that had never seen the world really bored him.

He confessed that he saw the poorness, shortsightedness, and greed that were embedded in Omega's nature, but today, when he saw the broken mug, he realized that he had missed so much, so much.

Zheng Fei was sadly sitting on the sofa, empty beside him.

Except for a few cardboard boxes, He An didn't leave him with any thoughts.

Three or four pieces of waste paper were thrown on the coffee table, and a stack of outdated old magazines. It was a long time, and the area was sealed with a thick layer of ash. He expected to find one or two lines of He An's handwriting in the waste paper, and picked it up and flipped it. The first three were advertisements, which were quickly skipped. When he turned to the fourth, he suddenly stiffened for a second.

Immediately, he seemed to be irritated, rubbed the paper into a ball, and threw it far into the corner of the room. In order to hide his panic, he grabbed a magazine randomly, wiped off the dust, and flipped aimlessly.

That paper ... is the association removal agreement he wrote in a year ago.

I thought I would never see it again in my life.

The agreement was written in black and white, clearly and clearly, and said that He An should move out of the city center, remove the markings behind the neck, and undergo induction labor. There are three articles, all of which are indisputable.

How could it be in He's hand?

Didn't it explain that Cheng Xiu stuffed it into the paper shredder and recycled it into pulp, completely wiped it out of this world?

Based on some strange reason, Cheng Xiu didn't destroy it, but gave it to He An-what reason did He An have to keep it? It is not a gift, but a knife in the heart of the heart. Who will treasure the weapon after being stabbed in the heart of the heart?

Zheng Fei's temples were tingling.

He is used to reason and sober, and always believes that everything that happens in the world is logical, but this question blocks all the explanations he can find, like a bottomless dead end. When you walk in, you are always sleepy In it.

He sat on the sofa, holding the old magazine, his eyes out of focus. The coated paper slipped through the pages like silk, then stopped abruptly at a certain page.

The magazine is sly and cruel, it is like a silent recorder, with the deformed spine to remember the most frequently read part of the host in order to present to the latecomers. Zheng Feiyu noticed his name in the title, and a large photo occupying a whole page next to it-this is his interview.

Turning a dozen pages forward, new clusters, turning a dozen pages backward, also cluster new, only the part about him, the edges of the paper were wrinkled.

He An actually liked him so much.