"That won't work!" replied the middle-aged man immediately.

I said, "Look, how can you just draw it on someone?" The middle-aged man said that he wrote it himself, and he could do whatever he wanted, and I said that if they want you to kill him, will you kill him too, even if he doesn't pursue it, the police will still arrest you. The middle-aged man lost interest at all, threw down the blade and walked out of the crowd, still scolding and swearing as he walked, meaning that I was nosy. At this time, the two young men picked up the flower pot and studied whether they would pass out if they hit him on the head. I hurriedly said that this person only stated that he would not resist, but he did not say that he would not die no matter how he was beaten, and he was not made of iron, so you were deliberately hurting.

The two young men were not happy: "Why are you so nosy, is there something wrong?" I saw a police car passing by on the road, so I pointed to the police car and said that if you dare to smash it, I will dare to call the police.

It was a coincidence, maybe it was because he saw a lot of people around, maybe the police in the car also saw the thin man covered in "blood", and immediately parked the car on the side of the road, and sounded a few sirens. When the onlookers saw the police car coming, they all disappeared like a hit-and-run, scattering in all directions, and the two young people who were holding the flower pots just now ran the fastest.

The two policemen quickly came over and were a little dumbfounded when they saw the thin man's appearance, no wonder, to say that the thin man was covered in blood, but he stood straighter than a tree. A policeman asked me, "What's the matter?" I pointed to the sign hanging on the tree next to me, and another policeman went over to look at it, his expression was crying and laughing, covering his nose, obviously smelling the pungent smell of paint, and came to me and asked me if it was blood or paint, and I said that the few strips on my forehead and face were blood, and the rest were all paint.

"Who did that?" the policeman asked. I pointed left and right, and said that when the people saw you coming, they all ran away.

The policeman asked, "Do you have your share?" I shook my head and said no, and then pointed to the Buddhist card shop, saying that I was here, and if I hadn't come out to stop it, this person might have been crippled by the crowd of onlookers. The policeman patted the thin man and asked you what was going on, but the thin man shook his head but didn't speak. The two policemen asked for a long time, but the thin man just didn't say anything. I got bored, so I went back to the shop and sat down. I couldn't help but ask Mr. Feng's friend when he was coming, and if he wanted to call and ask where he was.

"It's been here a long time ago. Mr. Feng replied with a wry smile. I didn't understand a little, but when Mr. Feng saw my expression, he pointed to the outside of the store and said, "Don't you just stand at the door." I was shocked, and said, is it the one who does performance art? Mr. Feng nodded, saying that his stage name is "Magic Wand", and he is quite famous in Beijing's art circles.

I said, "But, didn't he come to talk to us about asking for cards, why did he start performance art at the door?" Mr. Feng said that he was in this habit and could get it wherever he went. I looked at the fake Rolex on my wrist and pinched the time, less than an hour and a half had passed. Xiao Feng stood at the door of the store and told us that the police were still interrogating, but the wand just wouldn't speak.

Mr. Feng thought about it, so he had to stand up, go to the outside of the store with me, and whisper to the police, saying that this person was his friend, a famous performance artist in Beijing, with a magic wand.

"How can you let him do this here?" the policeman glared, "I know what kind of place this is, Sanlitun! It used to be the embassy district, what has become of this, how bad is the impact?" Mr. Feng hurriedly explained that he didn't let him do it, and this guy just showed it wherever he liked.

The police didn't believe it: "Since you are friends, why did he do this in front of your store?" Mr. Feng said that he asked him to discuss business, but he didn't expect him to set up a display at the door first, and he didn't answer for a long time. The police angrily ordered the thin man's "magic wand" to stop immediately, or else he would be taken away for disturbing the peace. After saying it three times in a row, seeing that the wand still didn't mean to move, a policeman took out his walkie-talkie and prepared to call the center.

At this time, seeing the wand, he sighed, shook his head and said, "In this world, it is so difficult to do something meaningful. Slowly reach for your shirt and take it off. The two policemen also breathed a sigh of relief, and in order to keep him from changing his mind, they also took the initiative to help him collect the props on the ground, and I also went over to help and put all these things into a big backpack. The wand had taken off his shirt and was covered in paint on his body and pants.

He was about to take off his pants, but was stopped by the police: "What are you doing? It's too much for you to do this here, and you want to strip it all naked? That's a hooligan, do you have to force me to arrest you?" The wand had to stop, picked up the backpack and walked into the Buddhist card shop.

As soon as he entered the store, Xiao Feng subconsciously stretched out his hand to stop: "Hey, sir, don't ...... it"

"What's the matter," Wand asked, "didn't Mr. Feng call me to talk about the amulet? Xiao Feng looked at the red paint that flowed from his wand on the floor tiles, and his expression was dejected. As if he hadn't seen it, the wand strode to the rest area, and Xiao Feng grinned, looking at the paint on the floor tiles. Mr. Feng gave her a comforting look, meaning to clean it up slowly.

Xiao Feng muttered, "This paint is hard to get!" The wand ignored it, and sat on the chair, the white shirt he was wearing was about to turn into a red shirt, needless to say, the back of the chair was not spared. Mr. Feng and I sat in the chair opposite, Mr. Feng introduced each other with a smile, saying that I was a Thai Buddhist expert and had been a senior consultant in the store for more than half a year. He also said that this is a famous performance artist in Beijing, who once exhibited in Hong Kong and was very popular. I thought to myself, according to his presentation method, if he went to Africa and the Middle East, it would definitely be more popular, and it would have to be disarmed by onlookers.

The wand looked at me and said, "It turned out to be you, so many onlookers just now, only you stepped forward to stop them from committing violence to me, here, I would like to express my highest gratitude to you." "I hurriedly said it's nothing, but I didn't expect you to be the friend that Mr. Feng said, why do you want to engage in this kind of performance art, what is the meaning.

"Of course you do, don't you see it?" Wand asked with a smile. I endured the pungent smell of paint in the house, and I really didn't see if I was using other people's abuse to improve my body, mind and spirit, just like the ascetics in the Himalayas and India.

The wand smiled and took out a cigarette from his backpack and lit it with a lighter, I ducked back, thinking to myself that you still dare to smoke with such a big smell of paint, aren't you afraid*. Fortunately, there was no fire, and while smoking a cigarette, the wand told me that this performance art was called "Let the Devil Out". I have performed in Hong Kong before, but it failed, and it was a success in the mainland.

"When you learn that you can do anything to a person in any way without reproach and resistance, the devil in the hearts of some people will be released," said the wand, "you see, some children tickle me with goose feathers, some draw pictures on my body and face, some water, some cut my clothes, some scratch my face, some throw eggs, shake my ears with paper cannons, and finally some people pour paint on my head and body, and even hit me with flower pots to see if I can be knocked unconscious." At that time, these people had forgotten that even if I didn't resist, I would be legally responsible for killing and injuring me, but they didn't take it seriously at all. If there was a real pistol, maybe they would have killed me. This is the kind of psychology that many people have when they commit crimes. I'm doing this to remind everyone that there's a devil in everyone's heart, and don't let it out. ”