Solve the line, solve the thousand mountains.
At that moment, Bu Chonghua remembered many details that he had missed before: the tattoo on Wu Yu's back, the professional books he had read countless times with him, the undeniable thirst for knowledge, and the sourness and envy of the elites, in front of the tombstone. Choked "I ran fast" but "it's really too late"...
Twelve years of waiting on the sidelines, and wandering the border line of life and death, it is indeed possible for people to have an illusion of identity confusion, and to twist the heaven's favored son Xie Xing into a bottom-level drug-carrying horse boy Jie Qianshan. But when Wu Yu rejected him at the Martyrs' Cemetery and in the car outside the boxing ring, that kind of humbleness and self-deprecation was really too much, too unreasonable at all.
In fact, he has no reason to belittle himself. He was born in a high school in the police world, and his grades are among the top students. Even if he returns after 12 years and has no merits, it is just one less document on paper. Bureau Song Xu Bureau The care of others and the love of the detachment for him are not fake, and even Lin Fang, who has always suspected him, can't have the courage to choke him face to face. Even things like black boxing can be bullied by Song Bureau To lurk in disguise.
He may suffer from a stress disorder, but he shouldn't be afraid of the affection of others.
Bu Chonghua stared at the laughing boy in the photo, stared at his gleaming eyes, and countless doubts arose in his mind: What made him unable to accept me
Where does that kind of self-deprecation come from
Snapped.
The photo frame was held down by someone, and when Bu Chonghua raised his eyes, he saw the young man standing in front of him and took the photo with his hands.
"Officer Bu," he said coldly, "I am amazed by your excesses."
Bu Chonghua exhaled: "I really have no malicious intentions, but I'm very sorry for the trouble caused to you, the second captain of Gongzhou City Anti-drug... Jiang Ting."
Jiang stopped.
Wu Yu stood at the corner of the corridor halfway apart, no one could notice that his pupils were trembling violently, and fragments of memory were smashed in the face—
"Have you seen that person, the one running at the front of the line? He called Jiang Ting."
"It's really amazing. Our department is stable in the top three, occasionally first, and the shooting marksmanship is amazing!"
"Playing is also very good! The layup is amazing!"
…
"You won't help me collect the uniforms that you will be using tomorrow. I've sent you a text message and didn't see it. I'll have to run back by myself." On the wall, I could hear the rain line outside the window slamming against the steam-drenched glass, and the dormitory was filled with a gray and damp smell: "Oh, yes, Zhang Boming asked you to go fishing, don't go, you agreed to study with me last time, you If you don't make up the exam for that class, you should fail. …”
If you make a list of the people Wu Yu doesn't want to see again in his life, Jiang Ting should at least be in the top five if he can't make the top three.
He retracted his body, backed into the corner, and felt his heart pound! Bang! Hit the throat all at once, as long as the opening is likely to pop out of the mouth. The dull pain from chest spasm stimulated the nerves all the time, but his brain has never been sober, even more sober than when the undercover agent encountered emergencies several times back then.
He must leave Jinhai immediately.
It has come to the point where it cannot be delayed any longer.
As early as when he moved into the Jinhai residence, he had already made preparations. All documents, documents, and cash were sorted and placed in a unified manner. In an emergency, he would just leave with his bag. Wu Yu quickly formed a clear line in his mind. The upper teeth cut deeply into the inside of his lips, he took a deep breath in the smell of blood and rust, turned his head slightly from the corner of the wall, and finally looked at the door of the ward—
After so many years of special high-risk work, he deeply knew that when he decided to leave, any nostalgia in his heart would lead to the failure of his previous achievements, but only this time, he couldn't hold back.
Bu Chonghua stood there, no more than ten meters away from him.
But this may be the last time they've come this close.
That man's deep and sharp eyes and perfect nose and lip line meander into the collar of his shirt, shoulder width, legs long, straight like a sharp sword, even the most critical standards can't find any flaws, he has seen it in his life. the best looking man. Wu Yu's line of sight was carefully sketched from Bu Chonghua's body, as if he wanted to imprint all the details of this scene, even the angle of his hair and the subtle folds of his shirt, into his soul; then his mouth was hot. The fishy sweet breath finally spit out completely, and turned around and walked into the distance.
But just as he turned back, he suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye, and his movements froze.
- Next to the door of the ward is another staircase up and down. Bu Chonghua and Jiang Ting are facing each other in front of each other. Wu Yu is halfway across the corridor on the left, and the stairs are on the right. One goes down and one goes up.
After going up the handrail of the stairs, a person was standing there. From Wu Yu's point of view, he could only see his feet in jeans and high-top boots. The part above the calf was blocked by the unique triangular space of the stairs. However, if the other party stood there condescendingly and looked down, he could have a panoramic view of Bu Chonghua and Jiang Ting at the door of the ward.
It's the motorcyclist.
What is he doing standing there
Who is he looking at
Wu Yu's eyes darkened slightly, and his extreme sense of smell of danger passed through every inch of nerves—
The two photos on the mobile phone were successfully sent. The motorcyclist waited for a while, and the mobile phone vibrated. It turned out to be the number he had already memorized by heart: "Hello, Sister Yin?"
"Aren't there any clearer frontal shots?"
"No," the motorcyclist said in a low voice, crossing the wards on both sides, "I followed him several times without success. This man is too vigilant, even within ten meters of the main road in the downtown area is the limit. He seems to be There is an instinct to avoid any prying eyes..."
A very light humming came from the opposite side of the phone, slightly sneering, interrupting him.
"..." The motorcyclist hesitated for a few seconds, and finally couldn't help asking his long-standing doubts: "Sister Yin, why do you have to photograph this person?"
The motorcyclist is still very young. He is not like the "Sanqi" guy. He started working as a broker in Southeast Asia more than ten years ago and smashed cultural relics everywhere. He has inquired about many secrets on the road.
Regarding the "painter", he only knew that the undercover agent was lurking in the Golden Triangle drug lord Thayer, and finally cooperated with the police to destroy the entire group. Not only did he kill Yinjie's father, Thayer, but also helped the Chinese border armed police to catch him. The famous Arthur Hodgson. For more inside information, he only knew that this person had a vague emotional entanglement with Sister Yin, and also involved a highly valued and very powerful subordinate of Sister Yin back then, but this was also what "Sanqi" said.
He didn't understand why Sister Yin had made him chatter with the artist for so long before she started. Could it be because of the jealousy in women's nature
"There's no reason." Sister Yin said in a lazy and cold voice, "You have to know that there are many things in this world that we can't think of in our lifetime."
The motorcyclist was silent and did not dare to ask. He walked to the corridor stairs for a while and glanced down.
The target is downstairs. Although he didn't know why this person came to the cancer hospital in a hurry, he vaguely felt that the artist's behavior was a little weird, and he seemed to be hiding some deep secrets.
"Sister Yin," he glanced left and right and asked, "When can I do it?"
The woman laughed silently on the other side of the call, and there was a hint of cruelty in her voice: "If you think you are ready, you can do it at any time."
- You can do it anytime.
There was a bloody shudder in the motorcyclist's nerve endings, and he said softly, "Okay."
Several nurses at the other end of the corridor entered the duty room together. The nurse supported the hobbled old man and walked slowly back to the ward. During the lunch break, the inpatient department was much quieter, and no one noticed the movement here; the motorcyclist hung up the phone and walked downstairs step by step according to the handrail. Suddenly his eyes crossed the handrail, and he caught a glimpse of two people standing at the next stairway. , I don't know what they are talking to face to face, but the taller one is obviously familiar.
Hey, he thought to himself, isn't that the man next to the painter, the head of the Jinhai City Criminal Investigation Detachment
What is he doing here when the painter is not with him
Wait a minute, the motorcyclist suddenly thinks of another possibility.
The painter hurried to the cancer hospital with unusual behavior. Could it be that he was following this surname Bu
Full of doubts, the motorcyclist was sensitively aware that there was something strange in the middle, so he calmed down, stood on the upper floor of the stairs, took out his mobile phone, took a few pictures of Bu Chonghua, and then zoomed in again. I took two, quickly sent it to Sister Yin and then emptied it, and sent another line of text: [Check this person].
The surnamed Bu was ignorant and didn't realize that he was secretly photographed by a camera not far away, in stark contrast to the painter who couldn't take a close-up photo anyway.
It's no wonder that not everyone is good enough to be his opponent.
The motorcyclist was stunned, and just put away his mobile phone, when he suddenly heard a familiar voice from upstairs: "I'm sorry to ask the nurse, I just called a taxi, and the driver said that the south exit is connected, which way do you lead to the south exit? ?"
"Oh, go straight to the elevator and go down there. It's the one next to the payment office when you turn the corner."
Painter!
The motorcyclist glanced upwards, made a balance like lightning, and went upstairs decisively, only to see Wu Yu's back flashing past the far end of the corridor and disappearing into the slowly closing elevator door.
Where is he going, home
Without any hesitation, the motorcyclist turned around and swept across the stairs, avoiding a few family members who were chatting slowly, banging open the fire door, and strode into the safe corridor!
It is impossible for ordinary people to go down from the ninth floor and synchronize with the elevator, but the motorcyclist is very precise about the time, and even the hospital elevator has calculated how many seconds it takes for each floor to pass. The empty corridors reverberated with the sound of hurried footsteps. Motorcyclists rushed through the corner of the escalator like a wind. The figure flashed on the glass of the fire cabinet. The strong wind blew past the blue sign on the white wall—8 Floor.
It's hard to do it in a public hospital with a lot of surveillance and a lot of people, but as long as you get out of here, there are always many dead spots in the city that cannot be covered by cameras, most of which have been imprinted in his brain like a precise map—
7 floors, 6 floors, 5 floors.
The motorcyclist made a sharp turn, and the soles of his boots rubbed against the floor tiles to make a sharp squeak. At the same time, he suddenly felt the wind whistling above his head, and a shadow fell from the sky!
—Bam!
It was too late and the killer only had time to jump up and roll down the stairs, holding his hands on the corner of the wall, and turned his head sharply: "It's you?!"
Wu Yu landed and stood up, holding something in his hand, and the killer instantly recognized it, it was his cell phone!
"I thought you were really my admirer, but I didn't expect to turn to our detachment leader in a blink of an eye." Wu Yu shook his phone with a tired and sarcastic tone: "It's not right for you to be like this, little brother, what's wrong with a man? How can you be so special?"
The motorcyclist turned around, stared at Wu Yu from the bottom up, and laughed slowly.
He was only in his early twenties, and his face was naturally as clean and sunny as that of a college boy, but in his eyes there was the ruthlessness and ferocity of professional killers.
"You misunderstood, senior." He slowly said with this smile, "My admiration for the painter will not be transferred by anyone, at least not until you die, or I will prove it to you now. ?"
Wu Yu's brows twitched slightly, the next second whirlwind was coming—
The killer leaped up with lightning and volleyed over the eight or nine steps, as fast as an arc-shaped afterimage; the mid-air force was over a hundred kilograms, and Wu Yu was slammed against the white wall on the spot!