Trafford’s Trading Club

There is a point where Dazhe has begun to admire No. 18. .That’s when Dazhe discovered that she could stare motionless for more than an hour.

As for whether No. 18 blinked or not, it is unknown. If it takes such a long time to keep an eye on a so-called financial owner, and it may even be far longer, then Dazhe feels that the work of the Black Soul Messenger is definitely a piece of work. Drudgery.

But having said that, this man named Zhu Maolin is indeed what his subordinates thought, a workaholic.

Such a person is probably the company boss's favorite general, right? Just because the boss of the company likes it doesn't mean that the people below will like it.

"On the 18th, is this guest difficult to deal with?" Dazhe finally couldn't help but ask.

At this time, No. 18 just turned his head slowly, glanced at Dazhe, and then continued to look at Zhu Maolin, who was having a meeting all night, without saying anything. Dazhe felt bored and had to look around.

From Dazhe's point of view, No. 18 was completely mysterious... But as for No. 18, she was just confused about the intentions of the potential sponsor approved by the new owner this time.

In fact, when she turned back the time to the way before she went back to the club, the man in front of her was just a random person on the 18th. He just happened to pass by. I felt that this man's soul power was pretty good, so I made a photo of him. White card.

Zhu Maolin was naturally unable to compare with the other sponsors she was looking for. Even though the information cards for the other sponsors she made were not necessarily very serious, it was certain that they took more effort than the one in front of her. There are a lot more.

The new owner actually approved this donor, who is a little more ordinary compared to the others... Is this a warning about my work attitude?

On the other hand, now that she had been observing Zhu Maolin for some time, she felt like she had no idea where to start. It's not because of lack of ability. To deal with ordinary people, a black soul messenger like her with a long experience has too many methods. But the problem is that there are too many methods, but she doesn't know which method is better.

She also told Dazhe that black soul messengers have their own preferences. Obviously, Zhu Maolin is not her preferred type.

Or maybe...because this time we need to guide the new Dark Soul Messenger Dazhe, the new master will choose Zhe who seems to be more common and easier to start with, just as a tutorial?

In fact, this actually reveals a deeper meaning... The new owner doesn't want Dazhe to be influenced by my style?

Complicating a doubt is the most irrational thing. Dark Souls 18 knows this. However, after all, this is not someone else, but the one who is her master.

The new owner might just take it out casually and have no more intention... But what if there is?

Black soul messengers are born with a reverence for their masters that they cannot control. They are in awe of the person who holds the throne of the shop owner... to be more precise, it is this throne.

No. 18 felt that she was trapped in a strange thinking circle. Reason told her that this might be just a simple business, but her intuition reminded her that it was not that simple.

But she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder, and her body suddenly atomized and then retreated, gathering back again one meter away.

I saw Dazhe's arm still raised in the air, looking quite at a loss.

"What are you doing?" No. 18 asked coldly.

Dazhe shook his head and said, "I just wanted to ask you, do you want something to drink?"

He was still holding two bottles of green tea in his hand and explained: "I just saw that you were too serious, so I walked away and bought it."

"Dark souls don't need to eat." No. 18 said calmly.

Dazhe shrugged, "But you still have the sense of taste, right? If you don't eat... isn't it very pitiful? Okay... whatever you want, I put it here. If you want to drink it, just get it yourself."

"Boring." No. 18 threw off his sleeves and continued to observe Zhu Maolin, "Also, don't touch me casually in the future, forget it this time. Zhanlu won't be able to protect you next time!"

In a tone of malicious warning, the key pendant around Dazhe's neck buzzed, as if he was quite dissatisfied with this provocation.

(Zhan Lu: Come on! Come and hurt each other!)

So how long are you going to keep staring at people... Dazhe leaned against the wall, yawned, and then glanced at Zhu Maolin who was waving a pen on the projection screen. He saw the ring on his ring finger and muttered: " This guy, if he doesn’t go home, he won’t be able to call his wife..."

…

…

"So be it."

It was almost two o'clock in the morning, Zhu Maolin looked at all the employees in his team and said: "The candidate for the reshoot has been finalized. Tboy, please contact her early tomorrow morning. It is best to have her come to the set in the afternoon. As for the script , I'll prepare...Thanks everyone, get off work."

The city is very quiet late at night. Some people drag their tired figures away, while others return to their seats, pull out their stools, cover themselves with clothes, and then refuse to move.

Zhu Maolin looked at the time and drove away.

He kind of forgot when he started to like such a quiet night, without having to worry about traffic jams on the road, and without the dazzling sunlight. The city seemed to be falling asleep before his eyes.

But he is still thinking about the script for the small film he will shoot tomorrow. At this time, he only has a vague prototype in his mind, and he has not yet been able to grasp the specific details.

Soon after, he parked his car in front of a convenience store in front of the park. Earlier, he asked his employee to buy a late-night snack, but he didn't eat it. Now he felt hungry, so he went to the convenience store to get it.

Finally, he bought a pack of cigarettes, then ordered a bottle of coffee, and returned to his car.

Smoking a cigarette, "sarborough-air" was playing on the car stereo.

He slowly closed his eyes, and his mind began to relax, as if he was exiled to the Bayinbulak grassland, which was the place where he was born.

Ding!

The reminder tone of the text message on his mobile phone suddenly pulled Zhu Maolin's thoughts from the vast grassland back to the mobile phone in the car in front of the park. He took a look.

Wife: Are you still working overtime?

Zhu Maolin: Still not asleep?

Wife: I'm thirsty and have a drink of water, but you didn't reply.

Zhu Maolin: Yeah. There will be reshoots tomorrow and we are still at the company. You should rest first.

Wife: Yeah.

Zhu Maolin: Good night.

Goodnight, wife.

Zhu Maolin breathed a sigh of relief, and the slightly astringent taste of coffee brought him a little energy. He opened his laptop, put it on his legs, opened the document, and started writing the script in his mind.

Are you heading to Scarborough Fair?

Cilantro, sage, rosemary and thyme…

This was the only voice accompanying him.

…

…

Good night.

Ask her to find me an acre of land

Cilantro, sage, rosemary and thyme

Just between the water and the coast

This was also the only sound that accompanied her to sleep...in this double bed.