The Thousand Hands Butterfly was several years older than Wei Qingyun, but at this time, she was like a little girl, leaning on the crook of his arm. It's been a long time since anyone has given her such a sense of security.

"Go back, I'll put them away." Thousand-Handed Butterfly murmured. She was referring to those pictures, and she didn't want the man in front of her to mind those things.

"No, I think they have become a part of your life, your strength, your pride, and your amorous style, all from those bits and pieces of the past, they are the ones that make you so charming, so charming, how can I mind that."

"Hmm." Thousand-Handed Butterfly replied shyly, and she even began to wonder why this almost strange man understood herself as well.

People, it's really a very wonderful thing, sometimes Qianfan has seen it, and finally didn't see a confidant, until he was disheartened, but when he met in Pingshui, he met the right person.

She originally wanted to say thank you, but her heart was pinched, and the pain in her heart made her tears almost fall, she was not sure whether the man in front of her really tolerated herself and understood herself, or whether she felt that she was indifferent to her past.

She still didn't say thank you, she felt that she had fallen too deep, afraid that she was self-inflicted. Isn't it? It's originally two Don Juan men and women, who cares who has loved someone else.

He Fan's photographs fill the living room of the Thousand Hands Butterfly and the walls of the bedroom.

He was a war correspondent, or more precisely an anti-war correspondent, but he also cared deeply about the lives of people in poor areas, taking a large number of photographs that reflected the people at the bottom of society.

He likes to use black and white tones and likes to snap. There is no elegance in his works, both in content and composition, every bit of light is full of the roughness of life, behind the chaotic streets, dirty faces, and sly smiles, there are desperate eyes that have never seen beauty and hope.

There was a time when he was the darling of high society, and some celebrities and rich people took pride in buying his works at high prices, and trumpeted his works, saying that they were the conscience of mankind.

Shrug.

Before he became famous, Thousand Hands met him and quickly fell in love. Speaking of which, that man also gave her a glorious and happy time.

However, it didn't take long for him to become even more deviant, in his own words, it was he who abandoned high society, abandoned those hypocritical celebrity rich, not them.

He began to smoke the worst drugs and prostitute the cheapest prostitutes.

Twelve years ago, he was found dead in his home in Hangzhou, a house left to him by his mother.

The cause of his death is a mystery, and many people believe for sure that he died of a drug overdose or some kind of venereal disease.

When it comes to the past, it's not so easy to get around. Thousand-Handed Butterfly couldn't help but ask again.

"How did you know about him?"

"He took pictures of orphans and helped them find their parents, hehe, I really wanted him to help me do the same."

"Oh, I see."

"Well, I haven't seen him, but I can't find the monk who knows him, it seems that the two of them are quite familiar, and there are a few photos he took in the old bald donkey's room."

"Can't find that Hanshan Temple?"

"Well, you know him, that old bald donkey, very bad."

"He actually knew He Fan, oops, that time I went to Suzhou, and I went to Hanshan Temple to take a look, but I didn't know, I didn't see those photos."

"Of course, the monk's bedroom does not accept female guests."

"Well, otherwise, ——,, it's just thinking about it, in fact, even if you know, you don't know what to talk about."

"Understood."

"You know a big-headed ghost, little brat, I thought about going back to China with him and settling in Hangzhou, but he left without saying a word."

"You haven't been looking for him?"

"I thought he would change his mind, and besides, a breakup is a breakup, what else to look for."

"Oh."

"However, when I saw the news that he was dead, I couldn't help but go and see him."

"See?"

"No, by the time I finished the formalities, his body had already been cremated, and the family's belongings and house had also been auctioned off, and according to his will, donated to an orphanage."

"Don't be too upset, I think he's an artist, he's a poet, poets and artists are like that, that's the way they exist in this world."

"I can't find it, did I mention his death to you?"

"No, although I admire his talent, but after all, everyone is not familiar with him, why, do you suspect that there is something wrong with his death?"

"His addiction to drugs was because someone forcibly injected him with high-purity *, and he tried to quit it, but that kind of thing directly acts on the human nervous system, how can he quit."

"Who, didn't you find it?"

"There are only a few clues, they do things cleanly, however, recently they have reappeared."

"Isn't it that they were also involved in the Yamamoto Teko incident?"

"How did you guess?"

"The matter of Eiko Yamamoto, whether it is suspected of murder or the incident of Aragaki Xiang, judging from your police rank, is all a knife to kill a chicken, unless there is something else in it that arouses your interest."

"Clever, it's just a pleasure to talk to you."

"Okay, now why did you find me?"

"You're so smart, why don't you guess anymore?"

Someone on the dark web was auctioning off a message that only existed for ten minutes at a site called "Kowloon Inn" before it was deleted.

Kowloon Inn is a well-known online black market in the dark web world, where there are all kinds of unexpected things for sale, there are weapons that have been smuggled and resold by the army, there is business intelligence, there are bugs of various digital products, and there are also limited editions of luxury brands, there are contact information for bounty killers, drugs, antiques, human organs, and even some missing persons, prostitutes, children, etc., to name a few, all-inclusive, and the basic "Criminal Code" code will cover the above.

And, you can also start a post on it,* anything you want.

The Kowloon Inn is a paradise for many people who can enter the dark web, a paradise to satisfy their various desires and sins.

It's just that the main god of this heaven is not Buddha, nor Jesus, but Satan.

The post just mentioned appeared only ten minutes before it was deleted, indicating that the message already had a buyer.

Lin Xiaohu also observed that message.

That's a photo message, asking for a kilogram of gold.

The title is simple: Miss Eiko Yamamoto's latest street photography.

As the title suggests, it is indeed Eko Yamamoto walking down a street when someone secretly photographed her through a glass window.

The face, very clear, and the physical characteristics can be determined to be Eiko Yamamoto herself.

It's just that most of the content of this photo is deliberately covered with PS software, without any street signs, house numbers, store signs, trees and flowers, etc., all of which may provide geographical location information, are deliberately covered - these are the information that the seller wants to sell, a fixed price, a kilogram of gold.