It is a city without a name and is not affiliated with any country. I was born here, and there may be a big world out there, but the world is just like this city to me, and it's no different from inside or out.

The city is very big, there are mountains and seas, the four seasons are quite distinct, all the things that exist in this world are in this city, I don't envy the distance, and I don't feel much about the current situation, so I still like to be here.

The city's nights always seem to be like this, dreary and cloudy. Even from the commanding heights of the city, you can't hide from the boiling noise. I still prefer the taste of street barbecue to this. Mr. Yu said that he could smell the smell of dirt buns from afar. He's always so high-profile, proud, and to the point. Since he is mentioned, let the story begin with him.

I always see him in this bar, and he shakes the red wine in his glass, and the ice cubes in it jingle in it, which is a quirk, and I don't bother to ask. The glass in his hand was different every time, and the waiter had looked curiously at the guest who had brought his own glass more than once. "I'm going to buy this place," he said to me, staring at the glowing red wine in his glass.

I pouted, "This is the third time, how much do you like opening lines like this?" ”

"There is still some money left, and things are getting cheaper and cheaper, but this evil money is rising."

"I have to admit that you're right, so I don't have the money to lend you." I leaned back in my chair and spread my hands, "But you can be more industrious, don't forget to change to a high-back chair for me to sit on after buying this place." I got up, took the cigarette pinned to my left ear, and walked out the door.

"Maybe you might want to consider going out and bringing a chair with you," he didn't look at me. I didn't look back, and waved my hand lazily, "Thank you for the wine." ”

When I went out, I turned left and went out of this dark alley, and I really couldn't figure out what was good about this little bar hidden in the corner. In fact, when he took over here, I felt that he had more plans than I did.

We are all cheap jobs, with no principles and no choices. Life and death are like results, and the stories are tinged with a harsh crimson color, but they smell like stale and nothing else.

Thirty-nine orders, 50,000 yuan, professor, no other additional requirements, below is a string of addresses. The envelope was a few simple lines with a large photograph.

I pouted, I never understood that in times like this, and in such an old-fashioned way of delivering information, in fact, the convenience and modern way often means that it is more insecure.

The messenger sat in front of me, and he kept trying for me to call him a scout, saying that he meant to be a correspondent. I laughed and said, "Why don't you call you Brother Monkey." "His expression always seems to be that bitter haha, I've been doing this for a long time, I met him when I was the 15th single, I died delivering letters, and he died doing things. I don't think all acquaintances are fate. I don't know many people, and even fewer are alive.

"Pick it up, it's not difficult."

"It's cheap, too." I pouted.

"Plus a story." He knows what I like.

"Deal."

I found the pleasure of this business for me after the third order, knowing why they died, like a collector and I like to collect their confessions, justifications, or a story before they die, I think it's no different from collecting their fetal hair when they are born, it's all evidence of a person's existence, and I usually don't have the opportunity to know from them, either because they don't have enough time, or they are too afraid of incoherence.

Then I thought of my messenger, and there were things they seemed more convenient to collect, but unfortunately my last messenger died in my wicked pleasure.

I really feel sorry for him, but I still think that he took a tenth of the commission, and he has to do something, not to mention his poor language organization skills. I should have advised him to read more books, and it seems that people who have not graduated from junior high school have no future as messengers.

It's a bit disrespectful to complain about a dead person here, so let's just think I'm a little nostalgic. I handed him a cigarette and listened to him tell the story.