The people around all looked like they didn't care about themselves, chatting in groups of three or five to themselves, like friends who hadn't seen each other for a long time. Pen, fun, pavilion www. biquge。 info As the saying goes, people have to bow their heads under the eaves. These people here might be waiting to see what happened to me, and they would always glance at me every now and then, and a few of them would laugh happily.

My body was like a noodle soaked in water, and I didn't have a trace of strength. I had to bite the bullet and look for tools to clean the broken body pieces on the floor.

When I turned to look up, I saw a circle of people standing at the back of the crowd. They stood quietly behind us and looked at us coldly, as if all this had nothing to do with them, or that they had long since become strange. They were dressed in tatters, and our group was ashen, and it seemed that they had been here for a long time.

One was dressed in a ragged leather jacket, baggy jeans, a pair of torn leather shoes, dirty hair that had been glued together, and a long, emaciated face. He stood half a way forward from the group behind him, and at first glance he was the head of the group.

He motioned for me to come with him.

I hurried towards the crowd, but was blocked by a fat man.

"Trouble let's go."

I said to the fat man's long, already puffy face.

"Doglegs."

The fat man didn't mean anything to me, I glanced at the fat man.

"Look at it, gouge out your dog's eyes."

I didn't care about the fat man, who didn't dare to bully the strong soldiers, only the ones who were weaker than himself. But there are always some people in the world who regard your forbearance as his capital to show off. The fat man seemed to feel the approving glances cast at him by those around him, as I passed by him. The fat man lifted his elbow and stumbled me. I looked back at the fat man in exasperation, and the fat man looked triumphant. The people around me looked at me like a joke, and it seemed like I was being bullied.

Finally squeezing out of the crowd, the man who signaled me to go with him was already in front. I hurried to catch up.

Turning around the cabin, behind it is a warehouse with stacked goods. As I approached the door, I smelled a strong fishy stench, similar to the slimy stuff I'd ever eaten.

Could it be that these black-looking buckets are filled with food? These buckets don't look like they're used for food, but like buckets of swill. I'm curious about what's in these buckets, but now isn't the time.

In the corner of the warehouse there are cleaning tools, which are still usable although they are already bare. I did the same as the man who brought me in, and I took whatever he wanted.

Back in the cabin, the thin man threw the basket on the ground, and the others consciously took the garbage from the cage they had been in and put it in the basket.

The group of people who came with me were still chatting to themselves. They saw me as a cleaner, and it was free.

How can there be such a big difference between people doing the same thing?

I had no choice but to do it myself and get the garbage out of everyone's cage.

After I scrambled to clean the cage under the mezzanine, I crawled out. The thin man had already finished the upper layer of the mezzanine, and he had already begun to flush each cage with a hose. When he was about to rinse the cage, the person who treated the cage was flattering: "I'll come, I'll come." The thin man unceremoniously gave the hose to the man, and the man flushed it and returned it to the thin man with a smile on his face. The thin man took the hose to the door of the next cage, and immediately another person was already at the door of the cage.

I don't have this kind of treatment, dragging the hose to rinse one cage after another.

The waist feels like it's about to break, and there are still a lot of cages that haven't been flushed. The thin man had already finished his work and sat down to rest. I had to grit my teeth and insist, I had to clean up the corpses on the ground when I was done, and my scalp tingled when I thought about it.

But I don't have a chance to delay, and if you delay in this place, you won't just criticize and demerit, you will die.

After rinsing the cage, I took a broken basket and a dirty rag. Looking at the corpses all over the ground, he was a living person just now, but now he is full of fragments and flesh foam, and his stomach is churning. I resisted my vomiting and began to clean up the body on the floor, each time I checked the location of the body with my eyes open, and then carried it to the basket with my eyes closed. When my hand touched the corpse, I was so nervous that I couldn't do it, and I felt that the corpse would come to life and bite me at any moment. I finally cleaned up the corpses on the ground, but there was one of the most terrifying things that I didn't clean up. It was his head, the only recognizable part of his body, and the most terrifying. His eyes were staring ahead, full of fear. When I took his head, I don't know if it was because of the mental effect or if his head was still reacting, it seemed to move. As soon as my hands trembled, the head fell to the ground, and the bones rolled right at the feet of the fat man. I got up and went over to pick it up, and just walked up to the fat man. Squatted down, stretched out my hand, and just as I was about to touch the head, the fat man kicked the head away. I looked at the fat man angrily, and the fat man looked at me with a smug face. If it weren't for the fat man's fat flesh that could crush me, I would have wanted to go up and punch him. I can't help it, I can't win the battle, so I have to pick up the heads myself.

Amid the mockery of the crowd, I dragged a basket of rubbish mixed with corpses to the back of the cabin and angrily dumped them into a pipe dedicated to dumping garbage.

"Bang, bang, bang."

A few crashing sounds.

Don't let me find a chance, you have to get him.

The opportunity soon came.