readx;? He lowered his head and looked intently at every inch of ground under his feet, like a beggar who was afraid to miss a penny of alms from passers-by. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 Yet he was still rich, still handsome, he was still him, he just had no hearing, he could no longer play the violin, and he was by no means a beggar. But this did nothing to save him from his hopelessly lowly humility. Why? He didn't understand.

- You really, can't play the violin anymore?!

A sentence from a female fan in Shicai's restaurant suddenly came back to her mind at this moment, and she was shocked to realize that the reason why she felt that this was more harsh than 'inaudible'. Because what he really lost was not hearing, not even the violin, but, the crown.

From childhood to adulthood, all his majesty was unbeatable, not because of him, Kang Lele, but because of his violin, his uncrowned crown. It was this crown that gave him a kingdom, made him king, and gave him the highest honor and honor. Losing it is like losing a country, without a king of a kingdom, without a shingle to stand on. That's why he became a deceitful person, and any insignificant person could trample on him wantonly. However, the beggar could not pick up a pearl by licking every inch of land, and what he lost was a crown that represented the rich land. So his downfall and embarrassment can not be compared to a beggar. He thought he was the king, but the crown was long gone. Thinking of this, I couldn't be more ashamed, and I couldn't wait to escape from this kingdom that had no other place to stand.

However, at this time, the eyes watched over the ears that were useless, and served them in their place. 2.0 vision + 8.0 lip language = 1 world of hidden killing. The stunts learned after being deaf and the innate good eyesight make Kang Lele like a hedgehog full of antennas, even a few unknown people, a few gossips falling between the shaking lips and teeth, and a few slightly disgusted glances, can be all included in the eyes without omission. As if out of surprise and surprise that the former king had returned to campus after recovering from a serious illness, the students threw him with surprise, concern or regret. But whatever emotion these eyes contained, sincere or false, they seemed to him without exception to be covered with a thin pity, so thin that it was useless to cover up their full schadenfreude.

At this moment, I remembered that my father had always reminded him that the higher he climbed, the more painful it hurt to fall. Broken bones but still can't die, this kind of pain is not enough to be heart-wrenching. It's just that there is no company of Qu Lan's pastoral by his side, and there is no gag and nonsense that hurts friends. It's just that there is music everywhere, and he's dead silent. It's just that because he is alone, this all-too-familiar campus has become an all-pervasive Ling Chi, without the slightest mercy for the flesh and blood in front of everyone's eyes. He clenched his palms, his nails digging deep into his flesh, and he wanted to swing his fists wantonly, and with all his strength, he smashed the superiority that had come at the cost of his humility and downfall. But he couldn't. Because it was not only his anger that he was holding onto, but also his self-esteem, which had been shattered by the death penalty. Even if there is a momentary relaxation, the little self-esteem that is scraped away will turn into a pool of blood. So the only thing he could do was escape.

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