Hidden Assassin

The thick cloud shadow slowly pressed down from the shady sky, and the rain filament continued to drift as the breeze hit the body cold. Sand supported the umbrella and stood quietly in the rain, silently staring at the white shadow in front of the distant tombstone, motionless. The Qian shadow's umbrella had fallen to the ground and had been gently turned by the wind. Her whole body was covered in hazy rain fog. Her right hand was lightly * * * gravestones, and her thin figure trembled slightly in the rain, weak as a willow, and seemed to float with the wind at all times.

Sha Sha watched quietly for a while and turned to walk towards the cemetery gate. Red leather shoes hit the bluestone floor, spilling tiny splashes of water.

The rain grew heavier and heavier, the sand stepped out the gate and stopped after a few steps. Looking back at the huge high wall surrounding the cemetery, the shadow of the genius shivering still seemed to shake in front of him. “That crying quiet seems to be the first time I've seen it.” Sasha thinks. I was just thinking of going up and saying hello, it's been a long time, but my feet have been nailed to the original place, I can't move, as if there was an invisible chain in the constantly dense rain silk that tied me tight, my heart raised an unnamed fear, told me not to go forward, not to go forward, not to go forward. It was this fear that kept me from contacting Ling Jing for four years, never went back to Jianghai, never set foot on the old house of the Sandchu Gang, never went back to that little rental house in the year.

The salad opens the door, falls on a wide seat, and heavily closes the door. At that moment, the whole world was isolated, the glass was brushed by heavy rain, and the world outside the car was distorted by the rain screen with a sense of untruthfulness. She switched on the on-board radio, which had been fixed to jazz frequencies for a long time, and then the loud, loud noise floated in the car, gently spinning.

In fact, Sansa doesn't like jazz. In fact, she doesn't like all Western music, but she doesn't dare listen to the radio of domestic music because she's always afraid to hear the familiar melodies, the melodies that he used to shake his head on a bike, the melodies that he used to hum at night, the melodies that he used to beat himself to the ground in the morning. All familiar melodies are frightening and, like Sacred Heart College, Sandhu Gang, Jianghai City, and Quiet, become taboos in the heart of Sandhu, buried in the deepest places, untouched. As long as this happens, everything that happens is less real, just like the world we see now through the windows in the rain, and it's not what it looks like. From the beginning every day desperately suppresses sadness, but painful whimpering always comes out of his heart, and then slowly begins to withdraw, seemingly becoming an outsider, watching himself desperately practise shooting, practicing lurking, practicing fighting, and learning his looks, as if he were attending a welcome freshman stage play at school, or playing a long and long game with them.

It must be all fake. Otherwise, how could there be such a group as the Dark Heavenly Qin? Otherwise, how can you practice this stuff day and night? Otherwise, how could he... how could he die? It's all fake. It's acting. One day, a lot of people will tell themselves that the play is over. He will smile in front of himself again. He will sauté chestnuts with a bag of sugar. He says that the final exam is going to be ready again soon, so he didn't come back. Then he will kick him with a quiet smile and say that we are already lily. You are not required to come back.

Sand lay on the steering wheel, a little want to cry, but nothing can shed tears, just open mouth to breathe, heart blocked by something strict, even in the temperate air conditioning, the body feels cold.

“True”, the sound of a gentle knock on the car window, sand down the glass, a young man's face appeared in front of him, dressed in a police uniform under the raincoat, smiling towards the sand: “Excuse me, miss, I just saw you in the car seem a little uncomfortable, do you need help? ”

“No, thank you, I'm fine.” Sha Sha replied reluctantly with a smile.

“You're a college student, right?” The young policeman seems to be trying to find the subject, "is he here to worship his elders? Don't be so sad."

“Well, I'm here to worship my father,” the couch started the car, the windows slowly rose, "and my husband's. Goodbye.”

“Uh...” the policeman was shocked by the words behind the sand, watching the student's youthful face disappear behind the window, in the pounding rain that gradually disappeared as the car went away.

The wiper swept away the obscure obstructions in front of the glass, and the sand watched the world gradually clear in front of it, listening to the jazz continue to float in the car. Though knowing that everything had happened, he always resisted so subconsciously that reason told him that the man was gone and would never come back, but somewhere in his heart he always refused to acknowledge, did not communicate with the quiet, did not go back to the place of the past, cut off all ties to everything in his memories, then it seemed possible to treat all of this as if there was no such thing.

However, after returning to the river and sea, it seemed that everything was slowly clear, and the grief buried in the depths began to emerge stubbornly, and everything that my subconscious refused to acknowledge began to jump in front of me, becoming clearer and clearer. No place for him, no place for him. Previously, the subconscious kept telling himself that he was in that place, in the kitchen, making a newly learned cake, on the couch, flipping thick comics, watching a boring soap opera in the living room, right there, just far from him, not looking for him, as long as he looked for it, he would surely find it. But now I realize, or completely admit it, I can't find it. He's not in that room anymore, he's not in the kitchen, the living room, the bedroom, he's not in the martial arts, he's not in school, he's not in the sandbags, where is he? Really... really fall asleep under that headstone? It's true. Is it true? Otherwise, why would Quiet cry so sad in front of that tombstone? Otherwise, why are you in so much pain?

Jiaming, he's gone. Already, dead. Sand parked the car on the side of the road and breathed deeply, feeling colder and colder. He could not be found anywhere. When he was sad, he would no longer hold himself quietly in a warm nest. Everything disappeared. He was really gone. Jing would no longer shout on himself, "Gu Jiaming, your big wife is late for bed again." He would no longer see him running to the bed in an apron and banging his ass with a shovel handle and scolding his lazy pig.

“I love you... Jiaming.” The distant voice seemed to soften, and the smile in front of her appeared again in her mind, stinging with pain in her heart. “I already liked you before Quiet said I liked you, but then I didn't know...” It hurts and my heart hurts cold.

The car started again, rushing through a rain screen, driving down the street. Sand stares at the scenery that is getting more familiar with the rain, as if it were running on the streets of the year. Just now the quiet cry appeared, overlapping with the young girl, that naive voice seems to still be able to hear: “From today on, you must be good to us, don't bully us, don't leave us, be with us forever...”

“The three of us... will always be together...”

Sand braked his car violently and looked up at the heavy rain falling from the sky. Suddenly he shouted: "Gu Jiaming, you disobeying bastard -”

The sound was covered by the sound of ladylike rain, and only the noise of rain was heard in the street. Heavy rain poured down into pieces, increasing as it fell.