Memory

The situation is not good, someone has gotten into trouble with Holy. I grabbed my little bundle and limped into the dark alley. The weather was not very good, there was a few thunders, and the rain started to fall. My chest hurt a little, and I covered my mouth and shrank behind a stack of empty beer racks. It should be the back entrance of a restaurant. It's quite dirty and messy, so it's more suitable for Tibetans. I coughed a few times, and a fishy smell came up. I felt uncomfortable. I frowned and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. I tried to stand up with some help from the stacked beer boxes, praying in my heart not to disturb those untouchable guys outside. But obviously I wasn't that lucky. I heard footsteps, very close, and the sound of a safety switch, just a few steps behind me. I turned around, and the black muzzle of a gun was pressed against my forehead. At that moment, I just felt dizzy. When I was working in a bar, because my life was too empty and in order not to forget certain things, I wrote down the fragments I remembered like a memoir. A colleague heard that I was engaged in creation and insisted that I show him that I was not engaged in creation. I was just recalling where Ye Wenbin and I started to go wrong, and then went further and further away. In the end, I got impatient with that little guy and threw my rough pile of words to him. After reading it, he said, "Is this true? These two people are not tired." I don't want to argue whether it's true or not, it's meaningless to me at this time. All I know is that at this moment, on the other side of the barrel of the gun that was pressed against my forehead, I saw Ye Wenbin's face. I laughed, I thought, maybe I am really tired Intention: