Striding out of the wooden house, Lao Hong lit a cigarette and took two puffs, immediately pressed it against the wall of the wooden house, extinguished it, and threw it to the ground. Pen, fun, and www.biquge.info

If someone sees him, he will definitely call him a loser, but it is a cigarette that can be used for money...

As he stepped out of the cabin, the shouting of playing cards slowly faded away, and there was a dead silence around him.

Lao Hong's face was gloomy, and he looked up at the sky, the sky was low and the clouds were dark, just like his current mood was heavy.

Looking back at the bustling wooden house, I felt out of place with this lifeless manor.

This familiar scene reminded Lao Hong of the days when he was mixed in state-owned enterprises.

In those years, each leader sat in the position for a few years and became fat, and then some were promoted, some went in, and the rest all ran away.

During this period, several leaders made great efforts to make the country prosperous, and shouted the slogan of turning losses into profits within a year, and the results were faster than those corrupt officials who stepped down.

There are some things that have rotten roots, and they cannot be changed by slogans and determination.

The company loses money every year, like a withered tree, an old man who is about to die. Rumors of layoffs, rectification, and privatization are flying all over the world, and the atmosphere is no better than the current end times.

In this context, there are still some people who live very chicly. They indulge in a life of drunkenness and luxury, like walking corpses without knowing it.

And Hong Taiping is one of them.

Like the wooden house in front of them, they have a dedicated 'lounge'.

There, mahjong tables are always the most sought-after, and those who come late can only play poker to pass the boring time. It's hard to have fun without gambling, but they don't dare to gamble with money, and it's common to have two or three packs of cigarettes and a few meals of wine.

At that time, Lao Hong, like the policemen in the wooden house, willingly rotted until the end of his life.

If it hadn't happened, I'd be now...

Lao Hong shook his head, retracted his gaze, and looked at the quartz watch on his wrist.

It's still early before the agreed time, so let's do something else.

The idea of going to Albe and them flashed through Lao Hong's mind, and he immediately dispelled it.

Now this time is too sensitive, and it is difficult to say something when people look at it. And this time the matter can't be solved in a few words, so let's wait until the evening to go.

So, where do you go to spend your time now...

***************

Noon was approaching, and the people in the kitchen were busy, and they had time to eat only if they prepared lunch for others.

Of course, stealing food is an indispensable unspoken rule in every kitchen, and everyone turns a blind eye to it.

"Hey, stealing food again!?"

Shambaught was about to put a fried golden prawn in his mouth, but his little hand shook when he was frightened by the sudden sound behind him, and the shrimp almost fell to the ground.

He shrank his head and looked back tremblingly, but before he could see anyone, the shrimp in his hand was taken away first.

"Hmm... Well... Delicious. ”

Lao Hong directly threw the shrimp into his mouth, chewed a few bites, and swallowed all the belt shells.

"You're too corrupt, aren't you? And prawns to eat? Where did you get it? Is there anything left? ”

When Shambaught saw that it was Lao Hong, he glanced at him, didn't bother to answer his question, hurriedly protected the plate of fried shrimp that had just come out of the pot, and hurriedly took it away.

"Master Hong, I don't look down on your stinginess, aren't you afraid that I will expose your evil deeds of stealing food!?" Lao Hong shouted half-jokingly.

"Cut..."

Shambaught turned back and gave Lao Hong a middle finger.

"If you want to have a jade burning, then go and expose it, everyone will die together, it just so happens that I am tired of living. In these days, life is no different than death. ”

Shambaud spoke in an old-fashioned manner, and after giving Lao Hong the middle finger, he pushed open the kitchen door to deliver the food.

"Didn't I eat your food a few times, and I said that I was dead or alive at a young age."

Lao Hong inhaled the fragrance of vegetables that kept wafting, moved his index finger, and muttered a few words to himself.

"Bad luck, bad luck."

***************

"Come on, Lao Hong."

Ryan stood beside the cooking table, heard Lao Hong's voice, waved his hand and said hello.

"Well, here we are."

Lao Hong saw that it was an acquaintance, and subconsciously replied, and then reacted, and then walked to him with some doubts.

"Why are you here? This is the first time I've seen you come to the kitchen. What's the matter, did Archer open a small stove for you? ”

Lao Hong saw that Uncle Ryan was wearing an apron, a chef's hat, and a half-cut onion in his hand, which was really a little incomprehensible.

"Well, I'm afraid you'll see me more often in the future."

Ryan fiddled with the onion in his hand a few times and replied helplessly.

"What's going on?"

Lao Hong's eyes were uncomfortable with the onion, and he took two steps back as he spoke.

Ryan put the onion back on the board, shrugged his shoulders and replied, "I heard that the kitchen was short of manpower, so I volunteered to help." Achill now has the final say, so..."

Lao Hong stared at Uncle Ryan with an idiotic look, wondering if he had a broken brain.

"Are you alright? If you don't want to be a chef as an artist? Just use these hands with a paintbrush to chop onions? Did they give you any medicine? ”

When the smell of onions finally cleared, Hong stepped forward and grabbed Ryan's wrist and looked at his hand.

"Artist, you think too highly of me, I'm just a wandering painter."

Uncle Ryan withdrew his hand and replied lightly.

"Cooking is a normal thing for me. In the past, when I couldn't make money, it was common to eat instant noodles and nibble on bread slices. Seeing that Lao Hong was still a little unacceptable, Ryan continued, "It seems that the manor no longer needs painters, and I have been sitting in that small room for more than half a month since I painted the portraits of Pierre and Lily last time. I just sit like that every day and don't have anything to do. ”

"Wouldn't it be nice to take this opportunity to improve your painting skills?"

"I wanted to, too, but unfortunately, I seem to have lost interest in drawing now...... Paint portraits of Lai for them to arrest, family portraits of policemen, and nude women for Pierre. These are not the reasons for me to be a wandering painter..."

"Hmm..."Old Hong was silent.

"I think it's better to find something meaningful to do than to lose the use value and be abandoned by others. If someone needs me, I'll draw it, and when I'm fine, I'll help out in the kitchen. ”

After listening to Uncle Ryan's words, Lao Hong couldn't help but glance at him.

At first, Lao Hong thought that Ryan was a wilted literary uncle who only knew how to draw, but he didn't expect him to have quite an idea.

Actually, Ryan and Lao Hong are about the same age, and it doesn't matter how old he is. But his indulgent beard and long shawl hair with white stubble always make people can't help but call him an uncle, even Lao Hong is no exception.

"Looks like you're going to have to paint me a portrait before you forget about painting completely." Lao Hong quipped with some emotion.

"Definitely, definitely."

Uncle Ryan picked up the onion and replied with a smile.

(To be done!) ）