Library

Huang Jiuba displayed the sign "Our store is fully booked" on the counter. There are empty rooms and beds in the store, but the owner doesn't want to take in any tourists. Just now, Huang Jiuba took out a thick stack of passenger registration books handed down from his ancestors from the cupboard, climbed on the high stool, leaned on the counter, and read each name one by one, flipping up page by page. Time flowed back, and the paper gradually faded. In the dead of night, the shop owner Huang Jiuba faced the ink marks of his ancestors and smelled the breath of each dynasty, feeling infinitely desolate in his heart. At this moment, the fortune teller walked into the store and left his leather bag on the counter. His hands like chicken claws trembled on the bag and turned the small wheel on the lock. Huang Jiuba grinned and said: "8888."

Going to the Public Security Department. He Liangzhu hurriedly stepped down the steps and got into the car of the Cultural Department. He was in a daze and said, "Go to the Public Security Department." The driver was startled. The Culture Department's car often traveled to the Propaganda Department of the Provincial Party Committee, TV stations, several major art academies, and grassroots cities. He had never been to the Public Security Department. The driver looked at the rearview mirror. He Liangzhu's face was pale and lost, like a surrender. The driver stuffed the cigarette butt into the dark box, turned off the stereo, and started the car. He Liangzhu sat upright upset and turned his face to look outside. The splendid Convention and Exhibition Center, Electronics Industrial Park, Conservatory of Music, Academy of Fine Arts, and Medical University Affiliated Hospital passed by.