48 Hours a Day

The tough man man and Zhang Heng were both very efficient in their work, and a quarter of an hour later they had walked into the woods with shotguns in their hands.

When the hard man crouched down and studied the tracks of the animals on the ground, Zhang Heng also asked, "Why me? Is it because I chose pop fiction."

"I don't care at all about that kind of nonsense," the tough man shook his head, "The reason I chose you is because you look different from the nerds in there, you should be able to use a gun, and hunting requires a gun."

It was hard for Zhang Heng to argue with this reason, but after a pause he still said, "The first pilot up there should know how to use a gun as well, so why not find him?"

"Him? I don't like him, as much as I can tell he doesn't like me either, or rather all adults he doesn't like very much, and don't you dare look at his warm story telling, he actually has quite a serious problem here himself," the hardened man pointed to his own head.

"Of course, he wouldn't have been able to write the kind of words that would heal the heart if he hadn't been plagued by depression all the time, talent can sometimes be a form of torture, especially for people in our line of work, most mental aspects are more or less problematic, and I'm no exception, I'm afraid I'd just blow my brains out with a shotgun in my hand if I spent too much time with him. "

The hardened man pulled his boots out of the mud and continued, "And you're new to the area, so I'm guessing you'll accept my invitation."

"............"

The hardened man's implication was that anyone who stayed long in this mountain resort would not accept his hunting invitation.

But think about it, what kind of crazy person would be out hunting after dark in the middle of the night, let alone today when it had just rained in a storm and the forest was muddy.

One foot deep and one foot shallow, they walked down a trail, tracing the trail left by an elk, and Zhang Heng was able to identify the hardened man at this point.

It wasn't hard to guess, especially for someone with his excellent powers of observation.

--Ernest Millar Hemingway!

As an author living in the twentieth century, Hemingway still left a number of photographs, and although he had a new hairstyle and a rare clean shave in the Hill House, he couldn't help it, his personal traits were still too strong.

As a first-hand witness of the First World War, he has a lot of marks left by the military, in addition to his work as a war correspondent, boxer, bullfighter, and even rumored to have been recruited by the KGB to become a spy, but unfortunately he really has little talent in this line of work, and nothing of value information has ever come out.

In a sense, his life was even more legendary than the stories he wrote, and in the end, this alcoholic man, who had survived several wives, chose to shoot himself at the age of 62.

Many of these experiences, Zhang Heng can find corresponding proof on his body, such as the scars left on him by the plane crash, as well as the effects of those military and spy training on him, including the wedding ring on his hand ......

If this can no longer be guessed, Zhang Heng will have lived with Holmes at 221 Baker Street for so long in vain.

Hemingway held a bunch of small twigs and looked carefully at the chewed marks on them, a rare hint of excitement in his eyes, then drank the whiskey he carried with him and lowered his voice, "It's close by."

But just as he was about to continue touching forward through the moonlight, he heard Zhang Heng's voice from behind him, "I've come to hunt with you, how do you plan to repay me."

"Pay back?" Hemingway was stunned, "What reward, the hunt is ours together, don't you get to enjoy it too?"

"I'm here on business, not to hunt with you, and to be honest I'm not much interested in hunting."

"Is it because you're so bad at it that you can't shoot any valuable prey?"

"No, on the contrary, it's because I'm too good with a gun and I have no difficulty shooting anything." Zhang Heng said indifferently.

Hemingway didn't say anything, but his eyes already betrayed what he was thinking.

Zhang Heng didn't bother to talk nonsense with him and directly proved himself with his actions, raising the shotgun in his hand.

Hemingway looked to where he was aiming, but there was nothing there that he could see, although there was moonlight tonight, it fell sparsely in the forest, and the visibility was not good, Hemingway wanted to look again, but the next moment the sound of the gun had already sounded.

And then Hemingway saw what seemed to be a wobble in the grass.

When the two men stepped forward, the hardened American noticed the moose that had fallen in the grass.

Having been to war, and more than once, he thought to himself that there should be nothing in the world that could surprise him, after all it was nothing but life and death, but he couldn't help but grow his mouth at the sight before him.

Hemingway himself was a marksman, but it was because of this that he was more aware of the difficulty of the shot that Zhang Heng had just fired.

With such visibility and being so far apart, the result was a single shot that killed him.

"How did you do this ......? Could it be that you're just like that housekeeper, who's character is the Lone Gunmen? Or the bionic man created by the guy who wrote the Three Laws of Robotics?"

"Unfortunately, I'm just a new author who just accepted an invitation to the Hills."

"Really? I've heard so many stories today, but to say it was an eye-opener, none as good as the shot you just took."

The hardened man said as he crouched down to carefully admire the gun on the moose's head while mouthing words such as this is incredible.

"How about you teach me how to write and I'll teach you how to hunt?" Zhang Heng saw that he had successfully piqued Hemingway's interest, so he put away his shotgun and cut to the chase.

However, the tough man shook his head at the news, "I can't teach you to write." After a pause he added, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not discriminating against your fad-oriented approach to writing, after all my own novels are quite popular, but to be honest, I really don't know why they're popular, I'm just free to create as I see fit."

"Probably because humans share a lot of emotions," Zhang Hengdao.

"You're right, like loneliness, no matter how poor or rich, up to the prince and noble, down to the poor tramp, it's inevitable for anyone in the world," Hemingway said, "I just often feel like I'm really too damn lonely myself, that's why I've been drinking heavily! , I had desperately hoped to receive a letter, from whoever it was, just to make sure I wasn't alone in the world, and that's why I don't want you to be the second me, young man."