Squeak

"Eighth child, you're a lot late. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 info "The one who spoke was a child who looked like he was only a teenager, and his voice was also immature, fiddling with a small abacus in his hand, clattering, looking like a rich slave, but he liked to wear a dark color suit. Also uncomfortable is his identity in Lingyuan, his name is Li Daoyu, nicknamed the boss, and he is the first and only leader in the history of Lingyuan.

The small table of eight immortals is placed in the conference room, the boss sits in the main seat of the back window, on the left hand side sits as usual Mengxi Dream Beauty dressed in red, and on the right hand side sits the pen of my partner this time.

"It's me who is late, it's the boss, you're too early." I snorted and closed the door and sat down on the only chair left. Spread out the hands, a pair of rolls flashed away, and a modern office gradually replaced the encroachment on the surrounding environment. "This is the scene I did yesterday at the request of my boss." I picked up the tea bowl on the table, drank it all, shook my head, and poured another bowl without pleasure.

"What are you drinking tea? It's a waste. "The pen holder took the tea cover and scraped it on the tea surface a few times, took a sip, and disdained my approach.

"Isn't that just tea? What kind of cultural people are pretended, in the final analysis, they are not all dead ghosts, can you taste it? I looked at his flushed face and secretly drank another bowl.

"I can't taste it, as if you can, hungry ghost." The pen stared, and the breath of his whole body slowly froze.

"Hehe, I can really do it, hungry ghost, hungry ghost, how can I call it a hungry ghost if I can't taste it? It's you, quickly put away your grievances and stain Lao Tzu's paintings. I replied as I looked at the boss who had been looking down and fiddling with the abacus.

"Okay, okay, you've been arguing for almost a hundred years, and you're not energetic. Pack up, he's coming. The boss opened his mouth plainly, ended plainly, put away the abacus, glanced at us with his strange eyes without pupils, and got up and left with the dream beauty.

"A little more, a little more is enough to do the laundry."

"Get out!" I subconsciously wiped my saliva, withdrew the eyeballs that followed the dream beauty, and began to change the furnishings in the room according to the suggestions of the pen.

It was my idea to change different dialogue scenes depending on the spirit who came to talk to me, and I was chosen by my boss with this idea, and I have been working until now.

It seems to me that the spirits who come here to confide are actually more willing to think of themselves as living beings, and as human beings, they are both eager to confide and afraid to let others know their experiences and secrets. People always subconsciously hide their shortcomings by boasting about their strengths in others. For example, if they want to show off their strengths in a certain aspect, they will always bring them to what they want to talk about and boast about themselves, no matter what the content of the previous chat is.

The specific bad environment will make them relax or nervous, so that they can express themselves more freely or urgently, express their every emotion, of course, the bad environment factor is not the decisive factor, but also need a pen to keep the reader of the pen. In short, if you want a person to express his story completely and smoothly with peace of mind, he must first have a bad environment suitable for him, and then he needs a good listener and questioner, so that the storyteller is constantly satisfied with solving the other party's doubts, so that he is unconsciously satisfied with the suppression of identity, rather than blindly being on the passive side.

"So what? …… So so? …… Yes, good! …… Oh, by the way, it'll be the same for a while, I'll attach the ability to change the environment to that spirit, you're okay, right? “

"Don't worry, I'm much more reliable than you. Hey, memory, it's such a strange thing, a lot of things have been forgotten, but I can make up a perfect story according to a few points, a perfect self, hehe, what a beautiful memory. The pen pushed his glasses away, with the same sarcasm on his lips as before.

"Liu Feng, you are really a madman."

"Aren't you? We are all madmen who are obsessed with other people's stories, and we are all crazy people who are desperately trying to find ourselves in other people. “