Tired flowers opened their eyes and saw these .......

The table was not very large, ten feet wide and ten feet long.

It was filled with all kinds of dishes, all kinds of wine.

Meat, vegetarian, fried, steamed, boiled, fried, roasted, boiled, boiled, boiled, flying in the sky, crawling underground, swimming in the water...... only you can't think of, there is nothing you can't find here.

Moutai, Du Kang, Jiafan, Fenjiu, Burning Knife, Grape .......

Maybe it's not as delicious as the Manchu and Han banquets, but it's definitely more varied and complete than the Manchu and Han banquets.

If you ask, what does it feel like to suddenly fall from heaven to hell? He didn't know, let alone experienced it, but when asked what it was like to suddenly fall from hell into heaven, he must know very well that perhaps not many people knew this kind of thing better than he did.

It's not funny, it's ridiculous, it's not joyful, it's joyful.

He stood up and fell suddenly, gasping and getting up again, standing up quietly, doing nothing, and not wanting to do anything.

His face looked extremely tired and weak, and his eyes revealed a touch of boredom and boredom that went deep into the bone marrow and soul.

The closest thing to him is to burn knives, and there are those lying on the ground and swimming in the water,......。

The corners of the wall are scattered with blazing fires, and the scorching and swaying flames seem to be a girl who knows love very well and enjoys love very much, with indescribable enthusiasm and intensity.

He lowered his head, approached the fire, leaned his ass carefully and seriously, and turned to continue roasting.

No one had ever heard of such a meal, let alone imagined it, and it would never even appear in a dream.

Their behavior is not only extravagant, but inhumane waste.

Tired of the flower approached the table, and then stared quietly, not speaking, not moving, and not eating.

His face was pale without a trace of blood, and there was a faint hint of intense stinging.

He doesn't eat because he doesn't know what he wants to eat? What do you want to do? I don't know how to do it.

Maybe he's just extremely tired, extremely bored, and has become extremely reluctant to care about anything, let alone touch.

His body was not only delicate and emaciated, but also lazy and weak, with no vitality or vitality, as if he had been overly ravaged and played by the evil spirits of hell.

He just stood dumbfounded, stupid, doing nothing, not eating.

Yang Qing walked over and looked at him.

"Why don't you eat it?"

Tired flowers are silent.

"Why don't you eat it?"

Tired flowers are silent.

"How are you as strange as him?"

Tired Hua was silent, but raised his head and looked at the unwillingness.

Not far away stood a cloak, a gun, and a man.

He stood as tall as a stone statue, straighter than the gun in his hand, his empty eyes without a trace of emotion, staring and poking ahead like a spear.

Tired Flower stood in front of him, her spear-like eyes already staring and poking at herself.

No matter who is stared at by these eyes, it will not feel good, and being stared at by these eyes is like being poked with a gun.

His body was already twitching slightly.

"The gun god is lifeless?"

Yang Qing handed him a roast pig's trotter and smiled coquettishly.

"You're pretty knowledgeable."

"He's hurt?"

Yang Qingjiao's smiling eyes looked surprised.

"You're not easy."

Tired flowers are silent.

"What do you do?"

Tired flowers are silent.

"If you don't say it, I know."

"You know?"

"Yes, you're a pig farmer."

Tired Flower sighed, slowly lowered her head, and was silent.

Yang Qingjiao smiled and stared at the tired flower gently.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Tired of being silent, already shaking her head.

"Because I'm rich, and everyone who gets rich has an eternal problem, you know what it is?"

Tired of being silent, already shaking her head.

"It's a desperate effort to scatter wealth, and it's a desperate effort to do good deeds."

Tired Flower raised her head and glanced at her, then lowered her head and said nothing.

"So you're out of the pigsty and here."

"You brought me here?"

"Not exactly, but him."

"The gun god is lifeless?"

"Yes, he always looks at you, so I'll bring you back."

Tired Flower stared at Wusheng, her chest already heaving.

"Why are you staring at me?"

Without saying a word, he turned around slowly, walked to the window like a stone statue, staring and poking out the window with his dark eyes like a gun, and someone downstairs was already shouting and neighing.

Several tall men, with thick eyebrows and big eyes, walked in and walked to the table, where someone had already sat down.

The man had a toothpick in his mouth, and it kept shaking up and down, left and right, and his face was already bright red from excessive drinking, and it was disgusting and disgusting.

But he didn't stop, and the non-stop drinking seemed to be very enjoyable for him.

The drunkenness in his eyes was deep, so everything he saw was a little hazy and a little blurry.

Therefore, when several tall and tall men with thick eyebrows and big eyes stared at him, he didn't seem to see it.

The one at the front glared the most fiercely, as if he was going to stare him to death.

"You've eaten well now, and you're good to go."

With a toothpick in his mouth, his eyes slowly became a little clearer, but he didn't speak.

A smile had already appeared on his face, and he smiled bitterly and helplessly.

"It looks like you're getting the bolds, and you need me to pluck it for you."

In the midst of the words, the staring man had already grabbed the drunkard, like an eagle grabbing a chicken, and he didn't want to look at it anymore after glaring, no matter how sober the drunk person was, it was disgusting and annoying.

So he threw the drunk out the door with all his might, "That's where you should go." ”

The drunkard was gasping and drinking, and there was no drunkness in his eyes.

The staring man was already outside the door, lying motionless on the ground, as if he would never move.

His two companions glanced at each other, gritted their teeth, and pounced on the drunkard as if they were weasels pounced on chickens, unspeakably fierce and cruel.

The drunk picked up his chopsticks and waved.

The two tall men, with their backs and bears' waists, and thick eyebrows and big eyes, suddenly fell to the ground and writhed a few times before they were motionless, as if they would never move again.

They had a chopstick stuck in their heads.

Although his mouth was moving, his eyes had fallen to the counter.

His eyes were more terrifying than chopsticks, and the body of the shopkeeper at the counter was already twitching, twitching, and walked over, watching, waiting.

The toothpick was already shaking up and down in his mouth, and his eyes were colder and brighter than cold stars.

"You know there's something looking for you."

The shopkeeper nodded.

"You're good."

The shopkeeper nodded.

"You've got something to do."

The shopkeeper nodded.

"They're all asleep, you know."

The shopkeeper nodded.

The man was silent, took a sip of wine, and picked up his chopsticks again.

The shopkeeper's body twitched even more violently.

With a sudden wave of his hand, the chopsticks in his hand were gone.

The cold sweat on the corner of the shopkeeper's forehead has rolled down, and his eyes keep trembling, but he still has a smile on his face, and he smiles very kindly, as if he is looking at his own Lao Tzu.

The man nodded, "You're nice and calm." ”

The shopkeeper nodded.

The lifeless stone statue stood erect, straighter than the gun in his hand.

He turned and walked forward.

Ahead was downstairs, and he walked downstairs like a stone statue, standing upright like a stone statue, straighter than the gun in his hand.

There was no trace of emotion in his empty eyes, staring and poking ahead like a gun.

The toothpick in the mouth of the man in front of him was still moving.

His eyes became colder and brighter, and he drank the wine from his glass before suddenly standing up.

Wusheng stretched out his hand, and the chopsticks slowly floated up and floated into the chopstick cage.

"Soul Searching Flowers?"

"Yes."

"You love to kill?"

"Yes."

"You're only going to kill people, too?"

"Yes."

"You want to kill me?"

"Yes."

"You can't kill me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a gun god."

Signing the flower smiled, laughed, ridiculed, cold and cruel.

"The gun god is lifeless?"

"Yes."

"You're not human?"

"Yes."

"You can't be human, either."

"Yes."

"It won't be a god."

"Why?"

"Because you're the Grim Reaper."

Speechless, unmoving.

The flower signings were silent and unmoved.

They obviously have nothing to say, let alone what they are saying, the end of the words has come, and the action is about to begin.

The beginning is the end, either your life is over or my life is over, there is no choice in between, and they don't want to choose.

There was no wind, and the fierce, icy cold wind drifted in and suddenly disappeared, disappearing alive, as if there was a mysterious and strange force strangling it alive, strangled in the bitter cold.

The door had been smashed, and the big man lying on the ground was motionless like dead flesh, strands of hair fluttering and rolling wildly.

The guests in the house were gradually gone, and everything seemed quiet, as if it were a tomb, a tomb without a trace of vitality or life.

There was no wind.

The flames in the dozen or so stoves in the room grew more ferocious and intense, and the writhing became more frantic and violent.

Just when the fire was twisting at its craziest and most violent, the chopsticks in the chopstick cage suddenly floated.

Slowly floating, swaying roots.

The green tendons on his forehead slowly bulged like a poisonous snake, and the toothpick in his mouth shook wildly.

The lifeless stone statue stood erect, straighter than the gun in his hand.

There was no trace of emotion in his empty eyes, staring like a spear, poking at the flowers, as if he was going to poke him to death on the ground.

The fire "popped" in the hearth, and the flame of Shimmer was strong and crazy, as if it was a soldering iron used to punish evil ghosts in hell, indescribably weird and mysterious.

Yang Qing didn't go downstairs, her twitching body swept upstairs, she didn't move, she didn't speak, but her eyes were indescribably gloomy and panicked.

Signing Hua patted her on the shoulder, hoping that she would be able to calm down and calm down completely.

Because her worries at this time could not help in the slightest, neither to keep Wu alive nor to die.

Her worry was just a fart, a fart that didn't play any role, although Tired Hua patted it gently, Yang Qingdi's body jumped very much.

"You didn't ask me who I am?"

"You're a man."

"You didn't ask me what my name was?"

"What's your name?"

"Tired of flowers."

Yang Qing suddenly stared at the tired flowers, and the panic and fear in her eyes were already twitching, twitching like willow branches in a fierce winter wind.

"You're not a flower."

"I'm a flower."

"I am a tired flower, a flower among the flowers in the Wanhua Building."

Yang Qing looked him up and down, suddenly pushed him away and stared at him coldly.

His appearance did not change in the slightest, and there was an indescribable boredom and boredom in his eyes, boredom and boredom that went deep into the bone marrow and soul.

The body is extremely delicate and lazy.

"I was originally called Jingyun Louhua."

Yang Qing gasped, her eyes already glaring at him.

"Why are you called Scared Flower?"

"Because I'm tired of bloodshed, I'm tired of killing, I'm tired of being killed, I'm tired of money, I'm tired of wine, I'm tired of family...... Even tired of being alive. ”

Yang Qing stared at the tired flower coldly, and said coldly, "So you have become a tired flower?" ”

"Yes."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just want to tell you one thing, I'm still a flower, so ......."

"So you're going down."

Tired flowers sighed, and the sigh was indescribably extremely tired and bored.

"One day is a flower, a life is a flower, life is also a flower, and death is also a flower."

His words may be extremely simple and direct, but how many people can understand the sourness, grievances, pain and sorrow inside.

Tears gradually flowed from his eyes, tears of great misery and sorrow.

Tired Flower stopped talking and went downstairs.

Yang Qing suddenly hugged his legs, advancing legs, she gritted her teeth, and her throat was already screaming.

"You can't kill him."

The tired flowers are silent, and the color of boredom and boredom in the eyes is even stronger.

He lowered his head and gently stroked her hair.

"Lifelessness is important to you?"

Yang Qing hugged her tighter. "Yes."

"How important."

"I can't live without him, I really can't do without him."

Tired Hua nodded, her eyes simply closed, unwilling to stare at Yang Qing.

The hand is gently retracted.

Yang Qing suddenly felt very sleepy, very sleepy, so sleepy that he couldn't exert any strength in his body, and then he suddenly fell down.

When you fall down, you fall into a dream, a gentle, sweet dream.

Tired Flower looked at her gently, but the sigh was longer, and the heart in his stomach was already twitching slightly, and the pain was gentle.

It was probably the last time he would see her.

He didn't look very closely, but he closed his eyes longer.

It would be better to close your eyes and remember what she looks like.

The chopsticks are already dancing, and the smile in their eyes is already twitching.

The tired flower suddenly stopped in the middle of them, and he stopped in the middle of them as if it had suddenly grown from the ground, mysteriously and strangely.

The chopsticks fell suddenly, and the smile on his face suddenly hardened and died.

There was no wind, and the restaurant became even more deadly and silent, even more dead and silent than the tomb, and the dead silence made people crazy and collapsed.

Cold sweat rolled down the corners of his forehead, the muscles on his face twitched at the root, and he gritted his teeth and said nothing.

Tired flowers squint at lifeless.

"The gun god is lifeless?"

"Yes."

"You're a gun god?"

"Yes."

"You're not human."

"Yes."

"Good."

"What does it mean to be good?"

"Very well, please."

The tired hand has been put out, has been invited, invited desperately.

Desperate is the end, and the end is the passing of a person's life, forever.

Speechless, he stood like a stone statue, straighter than the gun in his hand.

There was no trace of emotion in his empty eyes, staring and poking ahead like a gun.

There was only a sign in front of him, his body was already twitching involuntarily, and the smile in his eyes was completely hard and hard.