"Red-lipped Wild Dog". In order to find this slow car hotel that is not very popular, Ed traveled all the way to the end of North Poplar Avenue in the lower city. He's noticed that despite the small location, the business is doing quite well, and a lot of the guys around him like to go there for drinks, and everyone seems to be oblivious to the occasional flickering of neon, the tattered locomotive, and the occasional cry of ecstasy from the tortoise's shell being shattered in the depths of the surrounding alley.

This corner of the Lower Town is a bad place. It's packed with gangsters from all over Stuttgar, with restaurants, nightclubs, hotels, and rental apartments everywhere. The house Ed is looking for is only a small character that is not too inconspicuous, but since he can do a prosperous business after nightfall, he is drunk and brightly lit, and there is obviously another name behind it.

Standing in front of the door of the hotel, Ed lowered his head slightly, his expression focused. He certainly wasn't staring at the tip of his shoe, even though it had been a long, long, long time since his shoe was so noteworthy as it was now. He was looking at the door of the hotel.

The Red-lipped Wild Dog is a large, complete and independent house half sunk in the ground. A very stupid building, lonely and slanted on a street corner, like a chocolate cream cake that has been kicked in. Ed thought it must be a crater before it was built. Alas, the calamitous Titans, the calamity metropolis. Perhaps the big cigar sitting in the most expensive leather chair in the town hall should take the time to move his ass and consider whether he should let the super cradle of Stuttgar, which is crumbling in the sky, fall back to the ground.

Ed looked at the door of the red-lipped dog, licked his lips with his hands in his trouser pockets, and glanced up at the glittering sign. He had never realized that these four words could be so dazzling. He figured that this place must not be very welcoming to gentlemen who were overly formally dressed, whether they were fake or not. Normally, this question never bothered Eddard, but today he had been wearing his tie since the early hours of the morning, and now he inevitably turned into a king squid in a goldfish bowl.

Forget it, whatever. Ed felt as if he was thinking a little too much, thinking too much about the young guys he was about to meet and mingling with, and they probably didn't care about what he cared about. He unbuttoned his black suit on his upper body, walked up the steps step by step, pushed the door open and entered the hotel.

It's not much different from your average bar. Ed saw the casually dressed waiter walking through the noisy crowd with a tray in one hand to the private room, and saw an elderly girl with a guitar sitting on the table singing with her eyes closed. He saw two men and a woman sitting on the half-ring sofa at the edge of the small round table drinking, drinking the orange-yellow cocktail with very low alcohol, the girl crying, and the two boys comforting her, one of the bad boys with very dishonest hands, and the other always glaring at him with his eyes. Then he saw a guy in a crooked baseball cap accidentally spill someone else's wine, and the two men quarreled and got into a fight, which immediately attracted the attention of the onlookers, and at the same time attracted the attention of some other people, who immediately rushed over and pulled the two apart, and went to whisper. Those people had been sitting in piles in the shadows in the far corner, drinking a green bitter wine, silent and unremarkable, but now they were all as if they had been doused with gasoline.

Ed had a rough idea in mind. He went straight to the corner of the bar, sat on the barstool, spread his hands forward, and the temperament of the whole person became that of a beast who had been busy all day and just wanted to find a place to have a drink and vent.

The bartender walked over and placed a cup in front of him. "Hell yes."

"There is no one who doesn't see a ghost that day." Ed lifted his head with a droop, tugged at his tie hard, and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, "A glass of gin." ”

"Add something?"

"Tonic water."

The bartender nodded, turned and walked away to bartend. Ed glanced at his back, pausing for a moment, focusing on the other's hair. The young man, who looked a little younger than himself and was not yet thirty years old, had no idea what axis the pile of tofu in his head was rotating, and he had the idea of something even more outrageous than brushing the teeth of a walrus. His hair was dyed red and green, and it looked like a big cream ice cream.

When the ice cream brought the mixed wine back to Ed, Ed took a sip of it hungrily. It felt as if he wasn't drinking wine, but some kind of life-saving elixir. Ice Cream smiled, he had seen too many people in this category, it was really intimate. Although he had never met Ed before, he had come to see Ed as a man from the same world as himself.

"Today was a really difficult day." Ed sat in his chair, holding his glass and muttering.

"Oh, yes." Ice cream responded as he expertly wiped his glass, "Bad boss stuffed you with a lot of work." ”

It began, Ice Cream said secretly in his heart. It's not been a day or two since he's been working here, and almost everyone who spends money to get drunk here has a bunch of words hidden in their stomachs, and he has to talk endlessly when he has the opportunity, and he often patiently listens to the other party spit out the last word. He coped with it with ease, and the fact that those who were saying it often needed a constant supply of energy was more pleasant than hearing any interesting secrets, for the secrets that could be revealed in such situations were often not important, and might be important to the person who spoke them, but worthless to the listeners. And often the person who speaks is worthless to the person who listens. Ice cream cares about something more practical and capable of making a pleasant jingle sound.

"Boss?" Ed was stunned when he heard the words of ice cream, and then waved his hand repeatedly, "It's not a boss, it's a client." I'm working for a client. ”

"Delegator?" Ice Cream was still wiping the glass, and he glanced at Ed with a smile, "Friend, don't tell me you're a lawyer." ”

"No, it's a detective."

"Detective?"

"yes, I'm looking for someone. My employer entrusted me with finding a missing boy named Tommy. ”

“……”

Ice Cream's hand stopped suddenly. He raised his head and looked at Ed again, and Ed was also looking at him directly, the stupid beast look on his face had long since disappeared, his half-open eyes were raised and his eyebrows were raised, the corners of his mouth were slightly upturned as if he was smiling, and he was holding the wine glass with one hand, and the wine in it had already been wiped out.

"One more drink, friend." Ed put the cup back on the bar and said to Ice Cream in a gentle tone.

Ice Cream nodded, and without saying a word, he refilled Ed's glass.

"So," he asked quietly, "has the boy been found now?" ”

"I wouldn't have been so bothered if I found it," Ed shook his head and sighed, "I ran around for a day, went to all the places where employers said he might be, but found nothing, and everybody's answer was - 'No, I don't know where he went!'" ’”

"Then there's no way." Ice cream said.

"So now I'm here." Ed moved the second glass of wine to his eyes, staring down at the ice cubes floating inside, and his voice seemed to come from far, far away, "This is where the employer said that the child might be at the end." ”

"Why?"

"He's not a very smart kid, man, he's made some messy friends in ignorance and fearlessness, and used to go to messy places, and even did some messy jobs in messy places. Of course, he didn't do it anymore, but maybe it had something to do with his disappearance. ”

"The mess you're talking about," Ice Cream said with his hands folded on the bar, smiling, flat, looking at Ed, "is this?" ”

"That's not what I said." Ed didn't shake his head or nod, "It's the employer who said it." ”

"May I ask, who is your employer?"

"I can't say that. We have rules in this line. ”

"Oh yes, understandable." Ice cream nodded, and Ed saw him glancing at a corner not far away, and then moved his gaze back to Ed, "Each industry has its own rules, you have yours, and we have ours." So, why don't we each give each other some convenience? ”

Ed threw his head back to drink, slammed his glass back on the bar table, grinned, and gasped. "I'm here to find someone, and if someone finds it, there won't be any trouble."

"There won't be any trouble. You're in the wrong place, detective. Believe me. ”

Ice Cream said, reaching under the counter, then took out something, some metal toy, and slammed it on the glass countertop, making a crisp sound. At the same time, Ed felt a few people quietly surrounding him. He didn't have to look back to know who these people were, and it seemed that their work made it impossible for them to sit down and drink for a while.

Ed licked his lips and nodded. "Wine money?"

"It's yours, friend."

"Thank you."

Ed got up, straightened his collar, buttoned himself up, tightened his tie, and turned. The rest of the hotel did not notice the little farce that was going on in this corner, and still listened to the songs, the drinks, the joys, the weepings, the drunkenness, the pompousness, and did not pay attention to anything that had nothing to do with their own pleasures. After all, that's why they're here.

Red-lipped wild dog, a small, located in the corner crater of the flying car hotel, not very good-looking, but very distinctive, good wine, good songs, good people, maybe even the table lamp in the room is purple and gold-edged goods, let people drunk and dream, linger, let the little boy who does not know the world roll back and forth in it, happy can not help himself.

Ed slowly walked up the steps step by step, walked to the street, and looked back at the strong man friends who had been sending him out the door, turning their heads and walking back. It's a great place to be hospitable, and I hope these guys can sit down and finish their drinks this time. But Ed himself probably won't be going back to this place to drink.

"Good luck."

He glanced at the red-lipped dog's brilliant signboard, then turned around, pulled out his phone, and called the only acquaintance in the city who could barely be considered a friend.