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When Song Zhe and I met, he was thirteen when he snatched something from someone else and was chased. He was short and full of bad ideas, so he shoved him into my arms halfway.
When we were together, at twenty-three, the malnourished man grew up into a tall and handsome young man. He wiped his sweat with his sleeves filled with engine oil, smiled with big white teeth and said: "Brother Heng, I will repair the car and support you."
We are thirty-three this year. Song Zhe was drunk in the booth, talking to a few brothers, muttering that life was boring and wanting to split up.
Kill, people, crime, law.
I want to kill him.
Poison Tongue Attack*Ruffian Shou, 1v1, HE
First person perspective
A short story of tens of thousands of words that makes a splash after a long time
(Thanks to the kind-hearted Mrs. Bishui for the cover)
Purpose: Cherish companionship and be kind to the ordinary
