"What's wrong with you? Hopkins. ☆.☆" Khufu said.

"I had a nightmare." Hopkins said, choking his head down at the cup, Khufu rubbing his fingers nervously.

"It must have been a terrible nightmare." "I'm sorry, Hopkins, I thought I smelled absinthe," said Khufu, sympathetic as he touched the remnants of his wine glass, shards of glass between the floor tiles and the plastic soles. ”

"It's really absinthe." Hopkins said, getting up from a wicker chair and touching a shiny piece with his bare thumb: "Do you think it will ever come back to its original shape?"

Khufu looked at Hopkins with confusion and shook his head a little slowly: "No...... Of course not, I'll pay you one. ”

Hopkins wasn't sure if Khufu knew it was an antique crystal glass from a bow and arrow glassware company, each worth 1,750 yuan, the equivalent of a week's salary - but that didn't matter, Hopkins lowered his head and stared at the pile of expensive pieces for a moment, making sure they really wouldn't jump up and reglue together, and then breathed a sigh of relief: "Please wait for me for a while." He said, then he walked through the room into the bathroom, and five minutes later he returned to the terrace, where Khufu had gathered the pile, which he picked up, gathered together, and placed on the small linen cushion that had been stacked under the wine glass, and the fragments shone beautifully in the sunlight, which was no longer warm.

"Sit down, Khufu." Hopkins said that there was no trace of tears on his face, and his voice was soft and calm, with a hint of sadness, and it seemed like a heartbreaking nightmare, and Khufu shook his head, "The principal asked me to inform you." He said, "We're going to have to go out for a while."

"Intercollegiate football league?"

"Yes." Beelzebub said, "Starting next Friday and ending before Thanksgiving."

"What about Halloween?" Bepp asked.

"We'll hang enough pumpkin heads on the football field," Beelzebub said angrily, "and the players will stuff their trouser pockets with candy, and the referees will wear black robes and carry scythes."

"What about your homework?" This is Sasha asking, he has just come out of the bathroom, the bath towel is on his head.

"Pray." Beelzebub replied crisply, "Our Lady will answer me."

"How many games will there be?" Bepp asked with interest, "There will be a lot of people who want to see it."

"Twelve games, the league is a points system." Beelzebub said, "I hope they don't want to see how I have a blue nose and swollen eyes, or broken arms and legs."

"Every year the league causes 43,000 to 67,000 people to suffer concussions." Sasha added: "I think that's what worries me the most."

Beelzebub looked at him, "I'm glad you've recovered." He muttered.

"Concussions, broken bones. Even the most serious internal organs are ruptured or the spine is broken, and the mild ones are paralyzed in the second half of their lives, and the severe ones die on the spot. Khufu said, "It's inevitable. Someone gets hurt in every game. ”

"Where's the doctor for Grande's team?"

"Poor old John fell yesterday and broke his bones, before any of the team members." "It's only temporary, we'll find someone else to replace him as soon as possible – just one season, dear," Khufu said. We've looked at your CV and credentials, and you're up to the task. ”

"Where's the kid here?"

"Your physician assistant will be in the care of you for the time being," Khufu shrugged, "that's all." ”

Hopkins was silent for a moment, and just when Khufu thought he would refuse, he nodded, "Okay." He said kindly, "Tell me, where do we have to go first?"

"White Salt City."

Beelzebub said, "It was our first stop." He looked at Sasha hopefully: "Rich, vast, beautiful, fresh air. The people are kind. ”

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Beelzebub said, "even if you don't want to cheer me up for my first game or something, you can at least go and have a good time, and go to a football game."

Beelzebub happily stuffs a whole Mexican bean roll into his mouth, accompanied by a slow-cooked German sausage in a barbecue sauce. Coated with mustard and tomato sauce, the taste is rich and pungent. A group of young men and women wearing white shirts and black trousers/long skirts walked past him. All of them are well-proportioned and beautiful.

"What do you think?" Beelzebub said to the people around her, "This should be a good place, but I always find it a little weird."

"I don't like it here." Sasha said lazily, with a glass of grapefruit juice in front of him, and next to the grapefruit juice coffee was a plate of specialty ice cream given by the owner for free.

A warm breeze with the scent of roses blew between the two boys, the sun was shining, the sky was clear like a plate licked by a dog, and the white buildings revealed towers in the shape of sword points behind the cloud-like redwood trees, the tips of which shone with golden dots. The buildings on both sides of the road are beautiful and neat like children's dollhouses, the cars driving on the wide gray road are spotless, and occasionally you can see a small motorboat towing behind the car, and the people in the car are ruddy, smiling, and sometimes you can see a dog sticking its head out of the window and sticking its tongue at you in a relaxed and happy way.

"It reminds me of a small town." Sasha took a slow sip of grapefruit juice, "I told you a little bit...... Yes, that town, a group of Overseers or future Overseers. ”

Beelzebub remembered.

"Oh," he said, "I'm sorry I didn't notice this."

"It's okay," Crispkins said, "I'm just whining — you know I've not been in a good mood lately." It doesn't matter if I like it here or not, and I don't come here because I like it. He nonchalantly poked at the pink ice cream.

Another group of people slowly passed by, dressed as if they were still in the last century, and everyone who came into their sight received a smile and a brief blessing.

"It's true." Sasha muttered.

Beelzebub didn't speak, he ate three bean rolls and five sausages before he seemed to understand something: "I know it's weird there—Sasha, there's no 'bad guys' here." There are no beggars, no vagabonds, no prostitutes, no idle teenagers and girls wandering around, you don't even see a guy who is not neatly dressed - even the capital of the Western Continent may not be so "clean".

"Fifty percent of the population of the Overseers in White Salt City, and I mean those who have performed the Affirmation," Sasha said, "Honesty, sincerity, chastity, charity, kindness, and doing good things for all—this is their creed, and any Overseer or potential overseer can receive their selfless help...... In addition, in their teachings, laziness is also a great sin. So...... The unemployment rate in White Salt City is very low. ”

"Sounds great."

"The real situation is indeed very good," Sasha said, "if there is a president who can raise the employment rate of the entire Western Continent to the same level as White Salt City, maybe he will be re-elected for ten consecutive terms."

"Maybe it's a good place, but it's not quite for us." Beelzebub drank the last bit of grapefruit juice: "I have to go back before the coach roars and overturns the entire White Salt City, together?"

"No," said Sasha, "I'm going to take a look around."

Sasha. Hopkins wanted to see the Temple of the Overseering Sect, a magnificent and magnificent group of churches like snow-covered mountains that had stood in the heart of White Salt for nearly five centuries.

There are no buildings around the temple, only redwood forests and lawns, and visitors can enter the outer building of the church, which contains a huge icon and a series of paintings about the Bible and the origins of the Supervising Sect, and the history of the White Salt Castle is closely related to it, and to be precise, it was built by a group of persecuted Overseers who had to leave their homeland.

Sasha paused for a moment in front of the white sandstone icon, surrounded by tourists who spoke a variety of dialects and foreign languages, and were served by a guide who was a supervising cultist—the cultists of the supervising sect had always been known for their ability to learn foreign dialects, and Sasha listened with a little attention, and indeed it was.

When he moved to the gallery, someone came to him and asked if he needed an introduction, but Sasha politely declined, and he freely followed a small group until he reached the end of the gallery, where the visitor was guided into another room, and Sasha noticed that the door was open in the other direction.

"Visitors are not allowed to enter the inner sanctum," said a gentle voice, "only the faithful are allowed to enter."

Sasha turned around and there was a young man standing behind him, wearing a white stand-up collar shirt and black trousers like the rest of the guides, with a delicate gold cross around his neck, and a Bible with a black leather cover in his hand, and Sasha noticed that he had a black strap around his waist.

"But if you want," said the young man, "you can enter."

Sasha glanced at him, and Pkins' eyes looked indigo in artificial light, like bottomless sea caves, "I'm not a superintendent."

"It's just a special case." The young man smiled slyly, "I have such a little power."

Our lord will not turn away his darlings and masterpieces.

((One second to remember)