Moscow, a speakeasy.
Wen Han sat down with his head down, looking at his toes.
Beside it, there is a large and small suitcase, and the signs of wear and tear on the outside of the suitcase seem to remind passers-by that it has experienced a lot.
A young Moscow man came over without saying hello, took a seat, and wanted to get the small dice from Wen Han's hand. Wen Han raised his eyelids and looked at him strangely.
"You know, you have a special attraction, dear," the man said cheaply and self-absorbed, with the most beating expression on his face, "you've got me hooked."
Something is overlapping in my mind.
Wen Han remembered that he had met him for the first time and felt ashamed because of such words. He endured it, and the fear penetrated into his internal organs like a spider's web of nerves...
As the young Moscow man reached out and was about to touch her bare knees, someone held him down. She is a woman she has never seen before, she is so beautiful, especially her lips, her upper lip and the corners of her mouth are slightly raised, she is smiling, but when she opens her mouth, she says, "Bastard."
The young man was stunned: "This charming lady, what are you talking about?"
"Rogue." Still very lame.
Next, every sentence is a curse.
People who speak openly are so calm.
"Where is this uneducated woman from."
The man jumped up and stretched out his hand to push, but was blocked by the woman's outstretched palm and grabbed.
The wailing was harsh, and in the surprised eyes of several people at the adjacent table, a man in a white shirt and black trousers blocked everyone's sight: "Beibei."
With a wave of his hand, the people around him dragged the Moscow man away.
The woman frowned at the man in white clothes and black trousers: "Cheng Muyang, you are not enough to teach me anything strange?" Cheng Muyang snapped his fingers and asked for a drink: "Is there? What I taught you was obviously very educated. "North and South still think it's a little weird, but forget it.
She would never learn Russian anyway.
Two minutes later, Wen Han knew that this man was the cousin Cheng Muyun once said that he likes to drink strong liquor.
"Hello, I'm Cheng Muyang," the man took out a small silver wine bottle from his pocket and unscrewed it, "I want to take advantage of these ten minutes, we can get to know each other, of course, if you want to know about my cousin's I've been happy to help in the past. After all, I'm sure he'll never tell you that."
Ten minutes, the first half of my life.
It must be an interesting storytelling process.
Warm thought.
They met for the first time at a certain twilight.
Fifteen-year-old Cheng Muyun sat in the southeast corner of Moscow's Red Square, smoking a cigarette, with a youthful face, thin neck, and black pupils.
There are few passersby in this oldest square in Moscow.
He remained silent until someone pushed a little boy with a pale face forward.
The teenager looked away, and shoved the wet and cold half of the cigarette between the little boy's shivering lips: "Welcome to Moscow, my dear-cousin."
At first, Cheng Muyun gave him the impression that he was very hostile.
It was only a short stay. He remembered that there was a little sister Cheng Jia in the big family who was very cute, and she and Cheng Muyang were the most angry, but they didn't communicate much. When he left Moscow and returned to China, he still remembered that sullen cousin.
He also doesn't like Moscow's overly cold weather.
I didn't even think about going again.
But an accidental kidnapping experience at the age of fourteen made him change his mind. When Cheng Muyang went to Moscow for the second time, Cheng Muyun was already in prison to serve his sentence. This surprised him. It was said that the cousin reported himself and went in willingly.
Therefore, their second meeting was in the small room of the visiting prisoner.
The old boy had a string of phoenix-eye bodhi hanging on his wrist. It was simple. There was no extra stuff on the bodhi string. He shaved his head and squinted at him: "Welcome back to Moscow."
At that time, he was only fifteen years old. Facing the twenty-year-old Cheng Muyun, he was still a half-year-old child. He calmly asked him when he was going to be released from prison after atonement. Cheng Muyun didn't seem to care about his question: "Ten years? Probably."
"Do you need me to bring you something in?"
"Women?" Cheng Muyun was joking, "No. Is there any wine?"
Cheng Muyang took out a small square jug from his body and pushed it from the table to him. You can't drink outside of this room. Here, enjoy it.
A few years later, Cheng Muyun made great achievements in prison and was released early.
That was according to the instructions of the elders in the family. He gave Cheng Muyun the wind to wash the dust, burned all the clothes from the past, burned a fire at the gate of the old house, and waited for him to step over. He didn't step over, he went around. He didn't expect to get out of prison after so long. He still didn't leave the smuggling business. He even went a step further and got engaged to one of the core members of the largest smuggling group organization on the border line. That smuggling group had no bottom line, and touched everything that was dirty, which made the elders very unhappy and cut off Cheng Muyun's relationship.
About two or three years later, Cheng Muyun joined hands with his fiancee's younger brother and destroyed the core of the smuggling group in one fell swoop. The identity reversal is startling. Cheng Muyun always has this kind of ability. After he made a great contribution to get rid of his undercover status, he encountered a bigger reversal on the way back to Moscow.
That night was the most unforgettable night for Cheng Muyun.
If he arrives later, perhaps this cousin will be dead. If he arrives earlier, perhaps he accompanies Cheng Muyun to Huangquan.
In short, maybe because he ate fast in the first half of his life, and Cheng Muyun converted in the second half of his life, he was lucky to pick Cheng Muyun back from the gate of hell that night. The blood-covered Cheng Muyun bent his knees in front of the blood-soaked corpse, knelt down silently, and stuck his face one by one to the brothers of the former underground operation group who died for protecting him...
later-
Nan Bei was a little moved, and whispered, "This is the first time I've heard you praise someone."
"Am I complimenting him?" Cheng Muyang touched the small earlobes of Nan Bei and whispered, "I am accusing, without him being a hand-dragging shopkeeper for ten years, I will not be separated from you from Belgium. find you."
North and South chuckled.
Wen Han looked at Nan Bei and was envious, as if this woman had been in the same world with them from the very beginning, with a gentle smile, but also arbitrary.
"Your brother hasn't come yet." Nan Bei raised his wrist and looked at his watch.
When she said this, the person in their conversation had already arrived.
The man in that story walked down the steps, staggering the drunken men and women, and when he stepped on the stone-brick floor, the people around him looked back.
Cheng Muyun moved his shoulders relaxedly and walked to the table in the corner.
everything is over.
Half an hour ago, he watched Fu Yiming close the archives of death row prisoners with his own eyes.
In this round of the smuggling group's battle, the Moscow Action Group won. Although this was only a phased victory, darkness still existed. It might at least let Cheng Muyun take a breath and bring Wen Han back to meet her adoptive parents. Although for the safety of the two old people, they couldn't really show up, just watching from such a distance could fulfill her wish for the past few years.
Wen Han smelled the familiar smell, incense, which she used frequently recently, mixed with the unique fragrance of leather clothes, and wiped her cheek: "My love girl, are you willing to take me to a small hotel tonight to hang out with you? All night?" He was flirting with her in the sexiest Russian, hot breath rubbing against her cheeks.
Wen Han blushed and glanced at North and South, who didn't understand Russian, and his cousin who pretended not to have heard, and asked in Russian in a low voice, "Have you seen them?" Those of his former brothers.
"No." Cheng Muyun's hand slipped from her thin shoulder, followed the arc of her arm, and held her wrist, "Their world doesn't need me."
Cheng Muyun took out the car key from his pocket and threw it to Cheng Muyang. The car key landed in Cheng Muyang's palm. He clicked with one finger, made a circle, and put it on the glass table, watching the man bring his little wife. Gone, like any foreign tourist with a worn-out suitcase, turned away without looking back.
No goodbyes.
"What were your cousin and his wife talking about just now?" Nan Bei asked in a low voice.
Cheng Muyang touched the back of Nan Bei's hand and smiled calmly: "Go back and tell you."
Suspicious, he stared at Cheng Muyang for a few seconds, and suddenly pinched his chin: "Little rascal."
He smiled: "Oh? You suddenly learned Russian without a teacher?"
Nan Bei wrinkled the tip of his nose and gave him a blank look.
Wen Han was held by Cheng Muyun's hand and walked up from the speakeasy, when it snowed outside. Moscow, the cold touch, with the night wind hitting the bridge of her nose, cheeks and lips. Leaving Moscow tomorrow, like never coming back.
This is my hometown.
"Wenhan." He was calling her.
His face was covered by the hot palms. He speeded past the taxi, lowered his head, and kissed her upper lip: "When you were a little girl, did you ever pass this kind of bar, and you were afraid of these drunks?"
When he asked that, he really did.
She recalled: "When I was in middle school, there was a drunk man blocking the intersection." She struggled, lost the most expensive down coat at the time, and ran home huddled. Fearing that my adoptive parents were worried, they didn't tell the truth and said that the clothes were lost at school...
"Fortunately, you didn't leave a psychological shadow," there was wetness on his lips, and everything in front of him was really blocked by Cheng Muyun, "I don't want to miss you at the Nepal hotel because of your fear." Wen Han was stunned. , leaning on him: "You really don't smoke or drink?"
There was a whistling night wind in his ears, and it was so cold that his ears hurt.
"It's true." He was very calm.
Wen Han thought of the scene just described by his cousin, and there was a light of suspicion flashing in his eyes. He whispered, "You should have heard something that you shouldn't have heard."
"Hmm." She smiled too.
He drinks, and likes to drink spirits.
But it doesn't matter, no matter how many disguises there are, she has time to uncover them.
like a dream. Passing through this kind of place as a teenager would run away in fear of any villainous drunkard. However, she met such a villain as him in Nepal. If she hadn't traveled, would she still be afraid, avoid, and avoid going through such a place now
Fortunately, there is no other possibility in life.
He came all the way from hell and walked through mountains of swords and fires to stand there. meet her.
In this world, how can it be black and white, and how has it ever been either one or the other
Since I can't figure out who owes whom, and since I still have spirits in my arms, I might as well just leave it alone, like a silkworm cocooning, running around and wandering, and getting drunk to the point of whiteheads.