The tea is hot.

Gently writhing with heat, there is no wind, and every line looks charming and enchanting.

Standing upright like a lifeless stone statue, his empty eyes without a trace of emotion, staring and poking at this person like a spear.

"This tea is hot."

The old man at the grocery store did not speak, the corners of his mouth were trembling, and he was speechless for a moment.

His hand slowly lowered the teapot and retracted into his arms, as if unwilling to reach out.

"When the tea is poured, it must be drunk."

The old man was silent.

Staring motionlessly at the teacup, his body and soul seemed to be completely stunned.

Wusheng suddenly stretched out his hand, and the teacup suddenly floated up.

There was still tea in the teacup, but it was not poured out, nor was it drunk, and the old man did not drink it, and he did not drink it.

But there was no tea.

Wusheng suddenly poured the teacup, and no tea splashed, but a wisp of smoke floated up and drifted away.

"If you don't drink it, don't pour it, you like diarrhea, and you don't have to drink cold tea."

The heat of the soft sun has gradually intensified, and the chill between heaven and earth has gradually faded.

A few naughty boys gradually ran out of things, and gradually gathered around, but stood far away.

The faces of the two naughty boys who were playing cards had a rare smile on their faces, but they became stiff and strange.

A man walked up the long street at this time.

One person, one bamboo cane.

His clothes were shabby and dirty, and his expression was lazy and depressed.

The man didn't come over, but he smelled a foul smell that was intolerable and impossible to face.

A few naughty boys had pinched their noses and gave way far away, letting the man go first.

With a smile on his cheeks, he smiled and grabbed the old man at the grocery store, "I'll buy some eggs." ”

The old man struggled to his feet, coughed, and went into the house, struggling to bring out a basket of eggs.

"One tael of silver."

The grizzled man laughed, but there was no trace of surprise.

Yang Qing was already surprised, she had seen this person.

This man was Mr. Storyteller yesterday, and she remembered very well that there were many people surrounding him, not letting him go, and letting him tell the story.

There aren't many attractive storytellers, and even fewer are so attractive.

Yang Qing seemed to be even more nervous when he clinged to the lifeless body, because he found that this person was also very strange and mysterious.

This reminded her of the nameless nine fingers in the beggar gang, especially the bamboo cane in his hand, isn't it the same as the nameless nine fingers?

Such a person, who suddenly appeared, did he want to recover the blood debt for the nameless nine fingers?

The blood debt in the rivers and lakes is not the snow on the earth, and it is not the heat of the soft sun that disappears in a few days.

The cup was already in his hand and fell gently on the table.

Wusheng Rourou hugged Yang Qing, her body trembled very violently, and every muscle seemed to be frightened.

She really needs to hug, and she needs Wusheng to hug her.

Wusheng hugged her softly, but didn't say a word.

That was enough, it was enough to make Yang Qing smile, and Yang Qing smiled and stared at the lifeless cheeks.

"We saw him yesterday."

Wusheng nodded.

"He's the guy I want to go to."

Wusheng nodded.

"Now that we've found it, can we go and ask him?"

There was no speech, no nod.

Yang Qing was silent.

She knew that she must have her own reasoning, and all she had to do now was to look at them.

The storyteller took out a swarthy cloth bag from his bosom, black and ugly.

He picked up an egg, looked at it, and when he squeezed it, the egg suddenly shattered.

Eggs are already easy to break, and all eggs in the world are the same, just like the hearts of amorous women, they are all fragile.

Brittle and weak.

As long as you are not careful, it will be broken, so in the face of an amorous lady, every man must not be too rough, because while he is satisfied and tired, he will also break the other party.

The storyteller had no expression on his face, wiped his hands on his dirty, rotten, thin, smelly clothes, and then took the eggs.

This is the second egg he has taken out, and the action is no different from taking the first one, and it is no different from breaking it.

Of course, the tenth is no different.

He took them out one by one, broke them one by one, and the old man at the grocery store did not complain at all, as if he did not dare to complain.

The storyteller has complained, "Your eggs are not good." ”

This is sincerely looking for trouble, everyone will see it, and Yang Qing can also see it.

She was secretly worried about the old grocer.

The old grocery store man actually nodded.

"It's not right."

The old man at the grocery store stared at Mr. Storyteller, as if he wanted to bite the man to death, "What's wrong?" ”

"Nothing is right."

The old man was silent, his eyes glaring angrily.

"Is this egg from a chicken?"

The old man's body trembled slightly, "You ......." ”

Yang Qing smiled bitterly, because the words she said made people smile bitterly.

This egg is obviously an egg, there is nothing special about it, and in his hand, it seems that it is not an egg.

No one knows what the egg in his heart looks like.

The storyteller stared at the egg, which of course was broken, and there was no place to wipe his worn-out clothes, so he wiped it on the old man at the grocery store.

"Did you buy eggs?" The old man at the grocery store tried his best to control himself, gritting his teeth and trying to squeeze out this sentence.

Mr. Storyteller scratched his hair and stared at the unbroken eggs in the frame, "It's not an egg, it's not a chicken." ”

He smiled, and the smile was very mysterious, "Did you order this?" ”

Every muscle on the old man's cheeks seemed to be filled with an indescribable anger and resentment.

He was already wheezing, gasping violently.

Mr. Storyteller stared at this expression, as if he admired this expression, and the anger of others seemed to satisfy himself, "I won't say it, or you say, I'll wait for you to say it." ”

Sure enough, he stopped talking, and waited for the old man at the grocery store to speak.

The old man looked at the broken eggs on the floor, then at the man, and then squeezed out another sentence, "You fuck you." ”

The storyteller burst out laughing, and his smile was as disgusting, annoying, and disgusting as the clothes on his body.

He suddenly turned around and stared at the little girl.

The little girl was suddenly stared at by him and cried, she pouted, and snot, tears, and saliva all flowed out.

The little brother suddenly picked her up and coaxed her desperately.

Mr. Storyteller suddenly pounced and hugged the little girl over, which was really fast.

It's not something a child can dodge.

The little girl screamed more fiercely, and the snot, saliva, and tears on her face became more intense.

The storyteller smiled, as if he was very proud, "Don't you like hugs?" ”

The little girl tried to wipe her little face, but the more she wiped it, "But you ......." ”

"But I stink, don't I?"

The little girl nodded.

The storyteller pressed his cheek to it, "You said that whoever wants to hug you, go and kiss it." ”

The little girl nodded, "Do you really want me to kiss?" ”

The storyteller nodded, already waiting.

The little girl burst into laughter, and the snot, saliva, and tears on her face were not wiped away.

She had leaned her mouth softly.

The little girl's brother suddenly appeared on the side, and there was no slingshot in his hand, but a bright knife appeared.

The knife flashed, and the throat of the storyteller was sharply slashed.

This is also a good knife, fast and fierce, and the place to start is also very good, "I am impatient." ”

Mr. Storyteller sneered, suddenly put down the little girl, and retreated sharply, waving the bamboo cane in his hand.

The cold light of the road fell.

Not far away, the two naughty boys who were playing cards suddenly swung out of their hands and shot at the storyteller's body like poisonous arrows.

In the end, the naughty boy, who liked to play pranks, touched his hand to the ground, but only touched it.

Mr. Storyteller suddenly rose up, but he was still a little slower.

The two cards smashed against the wall unbiasedly, and the wall cracked and fell softly.

The storyteller suddenly stopped not far away, the smile on his face had stiffened, and there was a sword stuck in one leg, the soft sword shook and swayed, and the chill on the blade of the sword did not fade.

A few naughty boys suddenly stopped playing, and stared at Mr. Storyteller in a daze.

In an instant, there was no trace of naughty innocence and innocence.

The storyteller had a vague smile on his face, but he was not so cheerful.

The little girl stared coldly at Mr. Storyteller, her eyes staring at Mr. Storyteller like an awl, "This is what fucks up." ”

The storyteller nodded, gasping for breath.

"Good beggar gang elders don't want to be, they want to come over and fuck up, are you impatient?"

The storyteller laughed and laughed silently.

The little girl smiled and walked over, but she didn't get closer, but she was close enough, "I didn't want to kill you, but now I have to." ”

The storyteller gritted his teeth and slowly pulled out the soft sword on his leg.

The sword "ding" landed.

His hands were shaking, as if they were aching.

The little girl's hand suddenly stretched out, and suddenly a few more nails appeared in her hand.

The storyteller's hand was already tightly gripping the bamboo cane, and he leaned lightly against his chest, "You can make a move." ”

The box of eggs had not been moved, and the old man had not left, as if he had not woken up from his fear.

He glanced at Wusheng and gently touched his hand into his arms.

The lifeless stone statue stood upright, slowly retracting the spear like a stone statue, and the tip of the spear was dripping with blood.

Yang Qing's breathing was even more intense.

This man is dead.

He fell limply in the mud, and the hand slowly slipped out of his bosom and hung down softly.

What is that hand holding?

Why did Wusheng suddenly kill him?

Yang Qing struggled to turn around and stared at the hand.

That hand was holding an egg, and the egg was not a weapon.

The blood is still drifting, not gone.

Wusheng had already turned around, stared at the naughty boys, and then walked over to the naughty boys, stopping at seven feet.

The man was standing like a stone statue, the gun did not move, and the blood on the tip of the gun was still floating.

There was no wind, so it drifted very slowly.

The little girl's hand suddenly had a lot of nails, and the nails were not long, but they were bright, bright and thin.

There are not many people who use this kind of secret weapon in the rivers and lakes.

The little girl stared coldly at Wusheng, and her small and tender hand gradually turned red, "You killed someone." ”

Wu Shengsheng was silent, staring and poking at the little girl.

Yang Qing had already screamed coldly, "He likes to kill, if you don't leave, you will be like him." ”

The little girl sneered, smiling like a monster.

"You're not afraid of him doing it?"

The little girl was silent.

She was a mouth, though she did not speak, she was a hand that had spoken.

The hand has waved.

More than a dozen cold rays of light suddenly floated out, shooting at the lifeless body.

The little girl laughed, crazy, lewd and vicious, so close that few people could hide from it.

No life may not be able to.

She had seen the cold light shoot unmistakably towards the inanimate body.

At this moment, she suddenly saw a strange thing, and the cold light suddenly fell to the ground.

The sound is crisp and sharp.

The cloak fluttered softly, and the person had suddenly floated up like a light smoke.

The little girl only felt a sharp pain in her body, and she was heavily dizzy.

Before the lifeless body touched the ground, the sword light suddenly floated over, slashing the lifeless throat.

That's the kind of knife that came against the storyteller.

Wusheng gritted his teeth, his body suddenly writhed, and the cold blade swept against his neck.

He could already feel the green tendon on his neck tremble faintly.

"Good knives."

The knife did not drip blood, and the move had failed.

The person had suddenly fluttered not far away, a pair of eyes staring at the gun in Wusheng's hand, staring at the hand holding the gun.

"Why don't you kill me."

Silent without life.

"This knife almost killed you, why didn't you kill me?"

Silent without life.

His eyes were staring at and poking at the two naughty boys who were playing cards.

They didn't move, the cards in their hands were still there, but they didn't want to swing them, as if they knew they couldn't kill this man anyway.

"You're here to kill me."

They were silent.

"Now it's time to do it."

They did not speak, nor did they move, nor did they move their hands holding the cards.

The power of cards does not give you a trace of self-confidence, courage, and a chance to win.

They seem to know that the cards in their hands are just bullshit, and maybe not bullshit.

Not only can it not kill anyone, but it will cause more humiliation on itself.

They were already being humiliated, but they didn't do it.

Wusheng no longer stared at and poked at these two people, and these two people seemed to be no longer worth looking at for themselves.

He was staring, poking at the mischievous boy, and the naughty boy was staring at him.

The naughty boy gritted his teeth tightly, and the corners of his mouth were already dripping with blood from the exertion, "Are you a spear god?" ”

This sentence is nonsense, so there is no life.

He didn't want to talk nonsense, and he didn't want to listen to nonsense, so he walked towards the soft sword, and the soft sword was on the ground.

Wusheng didn't pick it up.

The sword had suddenly floated up, and with a slight wave of his hand, the soft sword had reached the hands of the mischievous naughty.

He stared at Wusheng in surprise, completely surprised, completely unintelligible.

What does it mean to return the sword to its owner? Do you hope that the owner holding the sword will get out of here quickly? Or keep shooting.

Not only did he be surprised, but everyone was surprised.

This is the idea of a madman, incomprehensible, unbelievable.

Wusheng suddenly stared and poked at the sword, stared at and poked at the hand.

"I'm a gun god, you can make a move."

The blade of the sword hung softly, without a trace of sword energy, without a trace of murderous intent.

Did he no longer dare to move, did not dare to use the sword?

The sword was unsheathed, not unsheathed, and the blood on the blade was dripping.

The hand holding the sword didn't tremble at all, and his heart didn't tremble at all.

"The sword is already in hand, the soft sword is ruthless, and one move is not in vain."