On December 19, it was snowy. Pen × fun × Pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

Last night, I had a fever. The hot body and the dry and itchy throat tortured me all night, and the sky was dark.

However, there is no way, there is still no one to accompany you, and everything still needs to be on your own.

Really, I couldn't help it, my bones were swallowed up like pain, but I had to get up three times with difficulty, staggered to the kitchen, dizzy and dizzy, turned on the faucet, drank the cold ice water like a cow, and washed my ruddy face.

The dark night sky, the white earth, maybe willing to listen to my uncomfortable and helpless heart?

No, I'm alone.

The clear groundwater, cold and cold, did not solve my fever.

I opened the fridge and found ice cream!

I held a large box of Nestle, on the one-meter-eight big bed, alone to taste, the cold, the lubrication, the sweetness, flowing through my dry and itchy throat, the ice made the root nerves of the teeth ache and hurt.

This morning, the fever subsided.

While he was writing his diary, he rushed into his study—it turned out that at nine o'clock in the morning, he had slipped out of the venue, drove for an hour and a half, and arrived at our nest, a nest on the outskirts of the Eastern End, in the ice and snow.

He saw my diary.

He was furious and threatened not to write anything literal.

He said, "Do you want to give evidence to others?"

Under his persecution, I had to burn it in front of me, burning a thick diary that was already more than half written. The image of the tyrant is unobstructed.

I wonder if the destruction of something tangible can resist the invisible feelings and thoughts of contempt in the depths of the heart?

This man who once thought he was good has taken his hand tightly by my hand, and I promise to be with him until he grows old and walks through the rest of his life!

Oh, my meditation secret "marriage", tolerance, tolerance, and even patience with him, because what I "married" was him, the lifestyle and family background of the "husband"!

It is said that marriage has a threefold realm:

The first realm: marrying a person you love.

The second realm: marrying a loved one and his or her habits.

The third realm: marrying a loved one, his or her habits, and his or her background.

Couples in the first realm have relatively stable marriages, in the second realm, their marriages are relatively stable, and in the third realm, divorces are rare.

It is well known that boiling water kills bacteria.

Love, like boiling water, can also kill the shortcomings and deficiencies of the person involved.

Some of the perfect Prince Charming and the little bird girl in love, after entering the tepid glass of marriage, the shortcomings and deficiencies re-flooded like bacteria, and became more and more intense and diffused.

Of course, these are just my visions, dreams, and thoughts about an impossible marriage.

What does my future hold?

Now he is so tyrannical, so suspicious, so vicious.

The first time I felt his brutality and ferocity was late at night.

I asked him to meet, and he said no, to the point.

I know what he's doing again.

I rushed to the office building and waited, and when I saw him leaving, I immediately followed him to a property complex, a group of villas located in a riverside park.

Seeing him enter a villa, I had to wait in the shadow of the trees by the river.

I think he must have come to do something bad, just as he asked me to collect and record some corrupt videos of the big bosses, with one goal in mind: to get unexpected benefits.

Suddenly, I heard a loud bang, followed by a blinding flash of light, and the ground shook a little.

Then, there was a loud bang, and a man flew out from the fourth floor of the villa, his body facing down, his face sunk into the hay on the lawn in front of the villa, and his legs seemed to be gone......

I was stunned, thought it was him, and ran closer to see if it was not.

I had just run to the door of the living room of the villa when a dark shadow hit me head-on.

In the moonlight, I realized that the black shadow was him.

He saw me clearly, and a slap came up, slapping me into the corner.

He scolded in his mouth: "Okay, you Artemisia Yanran, dare to follow me! Sue you—shut your mouth." Otherwise, we'll all be done!"

Then, as soon as he disappeared, I heard the sound of a car engine starting.

I also fled in a hurry, almost shoulder-to-shoulder with the fire police car.

Half an hour later, I arrived at the scene again in a police uniform.

I saw that all the glass on the fourth floor of the villa was broken, a large hole was blown out of the floor slab, and the wall of the balcony on the third floor was also blown through.

The path in front of the villa was strewn with shards of glass, and the lawn was covered in blood.

The deceased, Chen Jun, chairman of a chemical company, was about 60 years old, with a university degree, a well-known entrepreneur in Tonghai City, who was fond of collecting antiques in private.

The company pays more than 10 million yuan in taxes every year, is a large taxpayer, assets have been calculated in hundreds of millions, has invested in the construction of a museum, Chen Jun is the director, regularly or irregularly open to the public, exhibition of the museum's collections and the collection of members of the Tonghai Collection Society.

The registered address of this museum is the villa where the accident occurred.

But he didn't know about antiques, and he wasn't good at connoisseurship, just a businessman, for investment.

It was once an ancient stone sculpture that was seized by the police.

Because ancient stone carvings are the "high-voltage line" of the collection industry, they cannot be touched casually, and they are national first-class cultural relics if they are not good.

However, in the end, after expert identification, his batch of goods were all fakes, so he came out fine, but the boss of the auction company was detained.

It was at this time that Chen Jun was killed.

What is the truth of this bombing? What role did he play in it? He must have been an insider or even a murderer, right?

The fire department announced the preliminary findings: the deceased was doing an experiment in the house next to the balcony at the time, and the explosion was caused by improper operation.

Instructions for ozone generators were found at the scene, as well as fragments of oxygen cylinders. On the fourth floor of the house where the explosion occurred, there was only a rice cooker and a fire extinguisher.

The police also released the results of the preliminary investigation:

Judging from the scene, the deceased was conducting chemical experiments in the fourth floor of the villa.

During this process, due to improper operation, or other accidents, the explosion occurred.

The police will conduct further investigation and evidence collection on the cause of the explosion.

So, I suddenly understood that this is the identification result.

As long as there is a scene where he has appeared as an invisible person, this must be the inevitable result.

It's 10 p.m.

Outside the window, the sky was full of snowflakes, fluttering.

My heart, like this piece of snowflake, floated and floated without falling, and had to be sprinkled on the snow-covered earth, waiting for the dawn and the sun to fall.

Although maybe as soon as the sun shines, I'll have to seep into the dirt.

But it's also good, at least, that I moistened the land.

If it happens to be a wheat field, at least it can, it's a mega year!

My existence, perhaps, is still useful.

I feel a lot of emotion, I want to drink, and I get a little drunk.

Actually, I can drink too much? I just feel very confused.

The sky is still gray, and the small fish are still swimming in the dim water.

Yet I was so lonely, desolate, and confused, not knowing what to ask for, not knowing where to go.

In the vast moment, so is the spirit. Am I going to go up and down? or will I be in the muddy and seeking sweetness?

Where to go, where to go, where to go, where to go?

Tonight, I really can't sleep.

Just because you burn a copy of the diary doesn't mean it's over.

By now, it's time for me to concentrate on collecting, copying, and hiding things that can be ironclad, and I have to do it secretly.

Otherwise, what awaits me will be death, and an accidental death.

I think as long as there is value, there is hope.

In the past, I was so honored that someone had such a meticulous, considerate, sincere care and concern for me.

In the past, how happy I was that someone patiently, explained, and didacticly interpreted and depicted his ideal country for me?

The night was deep, but I couldn't sleep.

What is the path of my future?

I wonder what is the purpose of my retention of some evidence? Protecting the lives of my family? The thirst for justice in my heart? In the final analysis, I have to admit that Pingwei and Pingwei have a contempt for me. After all, people make a living by doing. As soon as you are a scholar and a dead scholar, you have become someone's top boss in a competition, and you have become someone's top boss? Of course, people are unwilling. What should I do? Where do I go from here? Where do I go from here?

It was almost dawn, but I still couldn't sleep.

Tonight, no one sleeps?

It was as if I had seen the cemetery, a small clearing.

It dawned on me that I would always be a lonely person. When I get old, my soul still has nowhere to go.

Actually, I have already thought about my 100 years, I will scatter my ashes into the river, and I will never hold any memorial service.

I know that my destination is definitely in the muddy and eternal waters of the great river.

Thinking of that picture and revisiting the phrase "we will be a family in the next life", I really felt a deep sting.

This stinging pain also came from the early morning of one day, when he joked that I needed surgery. For the sake of my already sagging ****** to think back, from the very beginning, he was afraid to lie in front of people, to express his feelings for me, even a gift.

How can I express my pain? Now, he's tired of me, isn't he? I'm afraid he's more worried about his career? Afraid of my rebellion?

It was only now that I realized that we are not the same kind.

What I desire is a spiritual and practical life, the pursuit of a romantic and poetic, and the opportunity and talent to do great things and practical things.

And he, in fact, is just an unscrupulous big bureaucrat who wants to take a career in office, and what he longs for is to have one or several beautiful women at any time and place but he can serve him.