Gone With the Wind

Chapter 95

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——Sui Qingchi's work, which has returned to the music scene after a long absence, has a kind of beauty washed away. The album is called "Young & Wrong", and the last song of the album is called "Forgive me for being young and frivolous". If this album has Chinese Translating the name, then I think the words "Youth and Confusion" are the most appropriate for this album, every song in it, and Sui Qingchi himself. This album adheres to Sui Qingchi's consistent style, and the design of the cover lyrics is very simple. The phrase "When we're young and wrong" on the album cover comes from Sui Qingchi's own handwriting. The album has a total of 15 songs, each of which is worth savoring repeatedly. Among them, "Forsaken" and "Forgive Me for Being Young and Confused" are undoubtedly the soul of the entire album. In "Forsaken", we can still hear the singer's memories of being young and frivolous. The rock band he loves, the song he loves, and his nostalgia for friendship. In this song, there is sunshine, heavy snow, starry sky and wheat fields. Although he indulges in nostalgia, it is colorful. And in "Forgive Me for Being Young and Frivolous", he seems to have come to another stage of his life. The slowly falling octave high pitch is himself falling from the clouds, and the just-right vibrato in his singing is touching. The bone of rock and roll, the electric guitar only occupies a very short paragraph in the song, but it is like a heavy blow to your chest, a flash of color and sound like a sudden hallucination in a black and white silent film. It is worth mentioning that the lyrics of all the songs in this album are written by Sui Qingchi, while the composer and arranger is Fu Cuo. Fans and friends may not be familiar with this name, but friends in the music circle should not be unfamiliar with this name. Fu Cuo and Sui Qingchi used to be the guitarist and lead singer of the rock band Xifeng. Later, Sui Qingchi went solo and Xifeng disbanded. Obviously, the fate of people is not over. Sui Qingchi's fourth album is also the only album that was shortlisted for the best album of the Golden Melody Award. Amazing work. This album has been released online and offline, but I strongly recommend fans to buy a CD and listen to it. From the first to the last, you will be attracted by the life of a musician. Listen to works.

— "Le Tide" Issue 118

In midsummer in August, Zhong Dao went to Fushan Villa again. Less than three months after the release of Sui Qingchi's sixth album, the offline sales had already exceeded one million. This is unimaginable in today's decline of physical records. June 30th was the deadline for registration for the Chinese Golden Melody Awards. Luo Xue made an entry for "Young & Wrong" on her own initiative. Yesterday afternoon, the studio received a letter from the Organizing Committee of the Golden Melody Awards. This album was successfully shortlisted for the Best Album of the Year Award, as well as the Best Composer of the Year and Best Singer of the Year.

But Sui Qingchi didn't have a good impression of the Golden Melody Awards. He was a guest performer every year. He sang from a rookie to a king at the Golden Melody Awards ceremony. He was nominated for the best singer every year, but he always accompanied him. The best songs and the best albums are not destined for him, as if to tease him. The fourth album was finally nominated for Best Album and Best Singer. The public thought they were both shortlisted, so one should be awarded, but in the end the two awards went to other companies. The media is very happy to see Sui Qingchi being played by the organizing committee. Every time the awards ceremony ends, the reporters rush to arrest him. They are asked, "I finally nominated for two awards, but I still got nothing. How do you feel now?" At that time, Sui Qingchi sneered and did not speak, and walked away from the reporter, but only took a few steps and was surrounded by reporters again. The bodyguard stepped forward to block the reporter, and the reporter was still shouting questions at him, and the microphone came close to him. Sui Qingchi blocked it with his hand, and a microphone hit his chest with a "bang", and it fell out of the reporter's hand. Sui Qingchi lowered his head and straightened his shirt on his chest. As if he was deaf, he was surrounded by three bodyguards and walked slowly towards the nanny's car.

He didn't apply for the Golden Melody Award for the fifth album, and the organizing committee still sent him an invitation letter, but he didn't go either. Many people laughed at him for not being able to afford it. People even used the Golden Melody Award to laugh at him, saying that the Golden Melody Award should be awarded to Sui Tianwang as a lifetime companion.

Zhong Dao offered to inform Sui Qingchi of the news, but he didn't know if Sui Qingchi really wanted to hear the news.

There were cicadas singing in the forest, but the trees above his head were very shady. He pushed the gate and found that it was still open. He was speechless. If it wasn't for the good security of Fushan Villa, something would have happened long ago.

Walking down the stone steps, he saw the shining swimming pool in front of him, which seemed to have been cleaned. He called "Teacher" as he walked down, and then saw a red Frisbee flying across the air and landing in the swimming pool , followed by the sound of "bang" entering the water, and the big white dog jumped into the swimming pool passionately.

When he came to the swimming pool, he saw Sui Qingchi standing on the terrace, wearing a white V-neck T-shirt and dark gray jeans. He didn't know what he was thinking, the dog was having a good time, but he wasn't.

The dog swam back with a frisbee in its mouth, and when it came up, it was shaking its dog's hair, and the water splashed everywhere. Sui Qingchi bent down to pick up the frisbee, took it in his hand and shook off the water on it, and said to Zhong Dao: "Since you're here, you can play with it for a while."

The frisbee was thrown into his arms suddenly, Zhong Dao looked at the dog who ran to him expectantly, so he had to throw the frisbee.

Playing Frisbee with the dog for a while, during which Sui Qingchi sat alone on a leather armchair on the terrace, leaning back wearily, squinting and dancing to the lush forest below the villa.

After several rounds of playing with the dog, he still wanted to put the frisbee at Sui Qingchi's feet. Sui Qingchi looked back at it, sat up resignedly, bent down to pick up the frisbee, and then was taken aback for a moment.

There was a layer of black and red blood on the slippers, and there was a dull pain in his ankle. When he lifted his trousers, he saw that his ankle had been cut by something. It was bloody, and it might be related to the fall he fell when he went downstairs in the morning.

Seeing this, Zhong Dao walked over and was a little surprised to see the blood on Sui Qingchi's feet, because Sui Qingchi seemed to be both indifferent and at a loss about the wound.

"Is there a medicine cabinet in the house?" he asked. "Is there a tourniquet?"

Sui Qingchi put down his trousers and nodded.

Zhong Dao brought the medicine box, Sui Qingchi unscrewed a bottle of disinfectant alcohol and poured it directly on the wound, Zhong Dao was taken aback, the wound was bubbling under the alcohol, it was very painful at first sight.

Sui Qingchi wiped the wound twice with a medical cotton cloth, tore off a piece of Band-Aid, then sat up and ignored it.

Zhong Dao noticed that there were still two bottles of vitamin B complex in the medicine box, which were heavy to hold, as if they had not been opened.

"What are you looking at?" Sui Qingchi asked with a frown when he saw the medicine bottle in his hand.

Zhong Dao shrugged and said, "It's too late if you don't eat anymore."

Sui Qingchi took the medicine from him, and glanced at the expiration date, it was true that it would expire in three months.

Zhong Dao didn't know what Sui Qingchi was thinking, he unscrewed the bottle cap, poked the seal with his fingers, poured out a few pills, and then froze.

Zhong Dao looked at Sui Qingchi in puzzlement as he poured the pills into the palm of his hand. He held a large handful of yellow pills in his hand, and then suddenly asked, "What kind of medicine is this?"

"Vitamin B group." Zhong Dao said.

"Do vitamin B pills look like this?"

"I've tried other brands, and it's the same. The yellow ones and the round ones are probably the same."

Sui Qingchi froze, and a sense of astonishment seized him. He knew that Fu Cuo was taking this brand of vitamin B, but he had only seen the medicine bottle. He never doubted it, nor opened it, only once. , When he went downstairs, he glanced casually and saw that Fu Cuo poured out a few pills and put them back. The medicine was not of this color at all.

What exactly are you eating...

The woman noticed the young Asian man sitting under the awning outside the cafe. The September sun was still shining brightly, illuminating his haggard but handsome face. She remembered him coming every week for a while, and then suddenly not seeing him again all summer. She thought he wouldn't come again, after all, it was close to the cancer center, and he wasn't the only patient who would patronize her cafe, but maybe it was because he was also oriental, because of his melancholy demeanor, and because he was always alone , she was more impressed with him than anyone else.

Seeing him again today, she was almost a little happy, he was still haggard, but there was spirit in his eyes. It was Thursday, and there was no one in the cafe. After ordering a cappuccino, the man sat outside the door alone, wearing earphones. He must have been very handsome and full of enthusiasm for life.

The woman opened the door and went out, gave him a plate of snacks, pointed to his ear, and asked with her mouth, "Are you listening to music?"

The man said yes, and put the phone on the table. She caught a glimpse of the cover on the phone, was a little surprised, and said, "Sui Qingchi, do you like him? Are you Chinese?"

The man smiles and nods.

She didn't understand which question this nod was for for a while, and asked with a smile: "Are you Chinese? Or do you like Sui Qingchi?"

The man said in Chinese: "It's all."

The woman also spoke Chinese happily: "I thought it was girls who liked him."

The man looked down at the album cover: "He looks like my boyfriend."

She couldn't help showing a surprised expression.

"Scared you?" the other party asked.

"No, I was just a little surprised..." She looked down at the cover, although there was no Sui Qingchi on the cover, but they all knew what Sui Qingchi looked like, she couldn't help muttering, "Then how good-looking your boyfriend is?" …”

The man smiled with a hint of embarrassment, and said, "It sounds like you're bragging, right?"

She pointed to the chair in front of her, sat down after receiving a nod from the other party, and then said, "Can I listen to it? I haven't actually listened to his songs much."

The man pulled off the earphone cable and turned up the phone volume.

The sound of singing floated in the corner of the street.

"...It sounds really good, but it seems difficult to sing," she smiled wryly, "I can't even keep up."

"The beat is a bit difficult." The man said, with a little apology in his expression that she couldn't read. "Writing songs that are too easy for him to sing is a bit too wasteful of his voice."

She nodded half-understanding, and couldn't help but ask again: "I think you came here alone, didn't he accompany you? Your boyfriend?"

"I didn't tell him I was sick."

This answer was expected, but beyond reason, she asked in surprise: "You didn't tell him, you left by yourself?"

"right."

"… why?"

"I asked him before why he likes me, and he said he didn't know. I just recalled when we first met, we were very young at that time, I played basketball, played music, and I could hit 13 floats, which attracted him What matters is the me at that time, and only the me at that time is worthy of the way he likes someone so crazily. I am afraid that this will appear in front of him."

"No, he really loves you and won't mind what you become."

How could I not know, Fu Cuo thought: "He won't mind, the one who minds is me, and I don't want to wait for me to close my eyes, and he will close them with me."

Opposite the small round table, the woman was speechless, and it took a long time to sigh: "Then he must love you very much, and you must love him very much."

The album played to the end, and the streets became quiet again in the afternoon.

"But I think," the woman said again after deliberation, "Even if the love is deep, one person will not really leave, and the other will not be able to live. After all, we all have family, friends, and love around us." Our people... If," she turned her head and looked at the deserted street, with the sun shining from one end to the other, "if there is really nothing left, only that one person, then if he leaves, I may I also want to go with him, in that case, maybe walking together is not a bad thing, after all, there is no point in living in this world anymore."

"Life is still so long, how do you know that it is meaningless, and how do you know that nothing good will happen in the future?" Fu Cuo said, "If we are all in our seventies and eighties, I will not stop him from doing whatever he wants to do."

The female boss thought for a while, then smiled again: "You remind me of an aunt in my hometown who used to be our neighbor. She has always been single. I heard from my mother that her boyfriend died in an air crash when she was young. She is still unmarried and alone. .”

Fu Cuo asked: "Is she doing well now?"

"It's not bad," the female boss said, "She has been running the bar left by his boyfriend, and she travels every year, and even visited me last year." She took out her mobile phone and flipped to the photo of the two of them, "It's her , I'm forty-eight years old, I can't tell."

Fu Cuo leaned over to look at the photo. It was taken in summer, and the cafe was in the background. The sun was shining on the road outside the window. The woman in the photo had short curly hair, put sunglasses on her forehead, and held the female boss with one arm. She smiled happily and looked like she was in her early thirties. She was originally in a cafe, but she seemed to be infected by her temperament. She looked like she was in a lively bar.

"She occasionally mentions her boyfriend, who is 7 years older than her. He used to be a civil aviation pilot. Later, he was in a car accident and his eyesight was damaged, so he opened a pilot bar." The female boss took back her mobile phone, looked at the photo and said with a smile, "It's still amazing. Even though her lover is gone, love still seems to be with her all the time."

Fu Cuo suddenly remembered a song by Tang Du called "Love Lasts Longer Than Sadness". He had never heard of this song. He used to be depressed just by the title of the song. It seemed to be a song full of philosophy of life in the eyes of the world. , but for rock people, it is only full of boring Tang-style lyrical ballads. But now he is a little curious about the song and wants to order it for the lady.

The grief of losing a loved one must be immense and deep, but in the end love will triumph because love outlasts grief.

Fu Cuo thanked the female boss for the snacks, and when asked "Are you feeling better now", he nodded politely and smiled. It was almost five o'clock when he left the cafe. On the way back to the cancer center, he passed a square. The square was full of people, and a platform was set up in front of him. He stopped and looked curiously. It turned out that there was a kissing contest, which seemed to be It was a promotional event before the release of a movie called "Love Is Invincible". More than a dozen couples eager to try were already in their seats. They started to kiss each other passionately and the picture was warm and romantic.

As the host booed the couple as they kissed, she read:

"We have a paper in hand, titled Shaping the oral microbiota through inmate kissing. According to the above data, a kiss can exchange more than 80 million bacteria..."

Sure enough, many of the lovers were about to laugh.

"That is to say," the hostess continued, "the longer the couple spends together, the types of microorganisms in the mouth will gradually converge..."

Fu Cuo listened to the hostess' words. He didn't quite understand every sentence, but he understood these two key sentences. Looking at the men and women who were kissing passionately, he couldn't help but miss the only oral microbial population on the earth that was similar to his own. the same people.

It's obviously very funny, but the eye sockets are a little hot when I smile.

It turned out that apart from those songs, he left something for Sui Qingchi.

When the taxi arrived at the cancer center at dusk, Fu Cuo walked into the hospital lobby and saw a familiar figure of an old woman on a row of benches. He couldn't see her face, but he recognized her clothes. Before Mr. Derek was sent to the operating room this day, he saw her bow her head in tears and say see you later.

Mrs. Derek lowered her head with her back to him, and Fu Cuo's heart sank. He saw that the back also had an expression, which was a sad gray.

She held a letter in her hand, and Fu Cuo knew what was written in the letter without reading it:

Dear Ellen,

I'm leaving.

Sorry to have to tell you such sad news in person. We had two lovely daughters, a grumpy cat, a beautiful house which is sadly gone now, and all that I had made me happy, but the happiest thing I had was getting to know you and Spent my life with you. I am a bad-tempered person, sulky, and stubborn. I have thorns all over my body, and you are like a cloud made of cotton.

I know this might be hard for you, because I also imagined what I would be like if you walked ahead of me. But God has given us so many years of happiness, and now he just took back his gift, and let everything go back to the original point, we didn't lose anything, I have always loved you to the end of my life.

He couldn't think about it anymore, because Mrs. Derek was lying on the back of the chair in the front row with the letter in her hand, her hands trembling.

This letter was ghostwritten by him. Mr. Derek could not write at that time. One night, he slipped from the next ward in a wheelchair and knocked on his door, asking him to help write a suicide note.

He and Mr. Derek came in at about the same time. When he was hospitalized, his physical condition was not optimistic. At that time, he had developed resistance to the targeted drugs he had taken before. The doctor later advised him to switch to new drugs, although he was still in clinical practice. In the experimental stage, but at that time he could only put all his eggs in one basket. Mr. Derek used the new medicine with him, and the new medicine allowed him to carry it, but the medicine did not have a significant effect on the old man, and his health went from bad to worse.

When he was writing the suicide note, the old man read it calmly, as if he had been typing the manuscript for a long time. After he finished writing, Mr. Derek thanked him. He folded the suicide note with trembling hands and put it in his arms. Even though he was very sick and skinny, he was still a decent old gentleman. At last the old man smiled and said to him: "It's a pity that I have to find someone to write a suicide note."

He knew it was a tactful reminder to leave something in his own handwriting while he could still write.

But it's not necessary, he thought, because I won't die, I will always "live" somewhere in this world.

The atmosphere after the failed operation was too terrifying. He didn't want to go back to the ward so soon, and sat on the flower bed outside the hospital, when he suddenly heard someone calling him: "Mr.Fu?"

He turned his head and saw Dr. Wilson walking towards him in casual clothes after get off work. He asked if Mrs. Derek was gone, and Dr. Wilson glanced in the direction of the hospital, shaking his head. Then sat down beside him and said:

"Surgery failure is a common occurrence for us. If one operation fails, we hope for the next one, but it is only once in a lifetime for a patient. So you have to think carefully."

For the family members of patients, this is the only time in a lifetime. Fu Cuo thought, with hope and fear, they seemed to be wandering between heaven and hell in just a few hours. Once the door opened, just a few seconds determined the difference between heaven and hell .

"I was lying on the operating table, whether it was success or failure, I don't know anything about what he experienced." Fu Cuo said.

Dr. Wilson was silent for a moment, and sighed when he spoke again: "So you have a family."

Fu Cuo was noncommittal. When using a new type of drug, because it was still in the clinical trial stage, he was asked to fill out a series of forms, including family members and emergency contacts, but he didn’t fill it out, saying that he was alone. Finally, Dr. Wilson decided to give him the drug .

Because the previous drug developed drug resistance, this is the second targeted drug he switched to. Fortunately, after a period of time, the tumor has really improved. Dr. Wilson told him the best The news is that there was a patient with similar symptoms to him before. With this new drug, his condition successfully recovered to stage 1. But after all, medicine alone cannot cure him, and surgery is still needed. Doctors are worried that his body may rebound after becoming resistant to the new medicine, and there will be no medicine that can work for him at that time. Although surgery was proposed, it did not say that surgery is the best solution, because the risk of surgery has not been reduced, and new drugs will definitely produce drug resistance. It is only a matter of time, and the risk of surgery will be even greater .

If this matter has nothing to do with life and death, or how many days he can stay in this world, he will definitely choose surgery without hesitation.

Wilson was afraid to pat him on the shoulder: "Regret and sadness, you have to make a choice."

Derek and his wife chose to be sad without leaving regrets, but he dared not give Sui Qingchi the right to choose. He couldn't figure out why Sui Qingchi couldn't immerse himself in sadness like ordinary people, and then walk out slowly with all his strength. Why does it have to be as vigorous as sparks hitting the earth when he falls in love.

That day at the airport, while waiting to board the plane, he kept writing that text message, writing it over and over again, thinking about saying too much and making mistakes, so let’s say less, but he couldn’t help but still wrote the whole screen, and the last word If a word is deleted, you can’t say love, and you can’t say reluctance. If you write too much, it will be too suspicious, and you can’t be too cold or unkind. In the end, only a plain sentence is left.

As long as Sui Qingchi doesn't know and thinks he's just gone, even if he's sad now and can't figure it out, time will slowly dilute the sadness. You might hate him, but at least you won't despair.

When he passed the next ward, he found that the ward had been emptied. This was the first time he felt the breath of death in this place. Suddenly, he felt a cramping pain in his stomach and wanted to vomit. He rushed into the bathroom and opened the toilet seat, but nothing Unable to vomit, he lay there retching and coughing, which felt very uncomfortable, but thankfully, because stomach pain was the biggest side effect of the new drug, which meant that the drug hadn't worked on him yet. He stood up with the toilet, went back to the ward, and habitually sat on the sofa chair by the window.

After arriving here, he changed to a new mobile phone, but because the old domestic card was linked to a bank card, he still set up a global roaming and recharged it for half a year, because he didn't expect that he could survive this half year. He just remembered this when he went to the bank today. He tried to dial the old number, but found that it was not shut down, and only replied that the user had shut down the phone, but it may have been shut down and logged out long ago, and it has become someone else's number.

Back in the ward, he found out the old mobile phone and pressed the power button.

When the screen turned on, I couldn't stop feeling uneasy. When the network was connected, the notification tone of WeChat suddenly sounded one after another.

There were people from AK, Yao Ke, and Zhong Dao. At first, they asked him where he was every now and then, but then they calmed down and said that they missed him very much one day.

The profile picture of the Abyss King has always been at the top, like a top Weibo. After he checked AK's WeChat, he hesitated for a long time, and clicked on the profile picture of the black cat, and the monologue-like messages immediately came out like waves. At first it was speech, and then it became text. Fu Cuo slid for a long time to the top.

King of the Abyss: "You answer my phone! What do you mean?!"

King of the Abyss: "Fu Cuo, you have the guts to answer the phone for me!!"

King of the Abyss: "I'm calm now, please give me a call..."

King of the Abyss: "Just one position! Just one position and I won't come to you whatever you like! I*!"

King of the Abyss: "You have to be reasonable when you do things. What the hell does it mean if you say I'm sorry and you want to return the product? I'm not even as good as the owner of Taobao shop. Why is it so difficult for me to ask you for a reason?!"

King of the Abyss: "I can't figure it out, really."

King of the Abyss: "You said you wouldn't lie in the church, so why?"

King of the Abyss: "Do you still think we are together, sorry for Tan Si? Is this what you can't figure out?"

King of the Abyss: "You may not understand what I want, and I don't understand what you want. It's too difficult. Fu Cuo, it's really too difficult..."

Hearing Sui Qingchi's voice full of sighs, he also felt bitterness in his mouth.

After that, Sui Qingchi didn't question him any more, just talked about daily life, and occasionally complained. He sent a WeChat message every day, as if he was competing with himself. Sometimes he had nothing to say, so he just left a sentence: " I don’t have anything to say to you today, I’m going to bed.” Later, it was simplified into a moment of silence followed by a sound of “sleeping”.

Sui Qingchi didn't say good night to him, it was his good night when he slept. He couldn't help but said, "Sleep."

Then one day, Sui Qingchi didn't leave any voice, they were all words, and only wrote a sentence: I will type it for you in the future.

Did not say why.

Fu Cuo has been listening to the last voice and reading the last WeChat. Almost two hours have passed, and the hospital has gradually quieted down. He still doesn't want to sleep on that hospital bed. The nurse came over and asked, "Aren't you going to sleep?" , he replied "immediately", the head nurse was used to his "immediately", and left.

Fu Cuo turned off WeChat, opened the photo album again, and flipped through the photos in a rare quiet and undisturbed atmosphere.

The last photo with Sui Qingchi was still on the stage of the Livehouse. The four of them squatted beside the stage, behind them were fans who raised their right hands high, making a metal salute. It was the last performance. Sui Qingchi wore A set of gray-blue one-piece overalls, the jacket of the overalls was only covered with half of the sleeves, the hand on his shoulder was bare, and the chest of the dark gray vest inside was soaked with sweat. Fu Cuo zoomed in on the photo, stared at Sui Qingchi in the photo for a while, wondering why he was sweating so much, but it was obviously the last performance of the four of them together, but he couldn't recall anything. All he can recall is the feeling of Sui Qingchi's bare arm pressing on his shoulder. The sweat has cooled down, but the skin is still hot. He will always remember the weight of that arm, and he still remembers that it beat slightly, following the heartbeat. and breathe.

There are really a lot of photos, and I don’t know when I will see them. There is a photo of Sui Qingchi who just moved into the rental house to live with him. The air conditioner broke down. He was wearing a black vest, squatting on the ground facing an old-fashioned fan to blow the air. The photos are static, but the memories are dynamic. He could see Sui Qingchi open the door and come in from the outside. The dazzling light and harsh cicadas behind the door were closed by his arm, and he talked to him after entering the room. , said while raising his hands to take off his sweaty T-shirt, then bent over to take off his jeans, and put on a vest and beach shorts. The old electric fan was placed on the tea table, whirling, and Sui Qingchi walked to the coffee table Squatting down, in that picture, a gust of wind blows up along his beach shorts and vest, the white vest clings to his waist, hugging his young and tight abdominal muscles like the wind, and finally Sui Qingchi squats on the coffee table In front of him, his face was very close to the fan blowing, and the wind blown his hair soft like waves, slowly undulating. He is like Schrödinger's Sui Qingchi, when the bangs hang down, he is a handsome Sui Qingchi, when the bangs blow up, he is a beautiful Sui Qingchi, and now they are drooping and rising again, so he took a picture of Sui Qingchi in Schrödinger's state with his mobile phone Chi. After so many years, he still seems to be able to hear the sound of the belt buckle hitting the floor when Sui Qingchi took off his jeans, and the sound of the fan turning his head.

The last photo was a group photo of four people in front of the tiger painted second-hand car. That day Sui Qingchi was also wearing a set of work clothes, and the clothes were stained with a piece of paint, which was later thrown away by him. The reason why he and Sui Qingchi were stained with that paint mark was because he and Sui Qingchi were both immersed in their work, while AK was playing around and bumped into him accidentally. He staggered towards Sui Qingchi, and the brush in his hand Just brush Sui Qingchi on him. Thinking of this, I smiled unconsciously. It was quite embarrassing, because the place where the brush rubbed was the buttocks. Sui Qingchi was painting the car door with his back on his back, but he stood up straight at once. Ass", he hurriedly said sorry, Sui Qingchi was like a cat with round eyes, quickly suppressed the words, turned his head to look behind, and said "it's okay".

Sui Qingchi has a bad temper, whether it's the young Sui Qingchi back then or the current heavenly king Sui Qingchi, he only keeps his good temper to himself.

Fu Cuo looked at the photos with some nostalgia. In the silent room, the phone suddenly rang, not WeChat, but a text message.

He was a little puzzled, wondering who would send a text message in the middle of the night, opened the text message, but saw that the text message came from the bank, and it was a notice to transfer 5.2 million yuan.

Instinctively, he sat up straight and was completely stunned. After he was in a daze for an unknown amount of time, the text message rang again. It was a notification from the bank card of the West Wind Band, and it also called 5.2 million.

He didn't know why Sui Qingchi suddenly transferred him 5.2 million yuan today. He might have noticed something, but he didn't know whether he was still using these cards and account numbers, or even whether he was still there, so he didn't know anything. Regardless of the transfer of more than ten million.

Then the WeChat rang, and a red dot lit up under the Abyss King's avatar.

King of the Abyss: I will wait for you until you are eighty years old.

Sent at 1:21, which is now.