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The cemetery is always so quiet. At a glance, there are eye-catching tombs wrapped among the endless mountains. The dense tombstones are neatly arranged. There are countless people lying under the ground, but there are almost no people on the ground. Sometimes it feels creepy to think about it: if the order of the tombstones represents the order in which everyone sleeps underground, then these neat tombstones are just corpses arranged in rows one after another. "Hurry up, let's put down the flowers and leave." Xiaogui said. Xiaogui is my colleague. One of his classmates passed away a few days ago. He happened to be on a business trip and missed the funeral. When he came back, he decided to give his classmate a bouquet of flowers. But he was too timid to come alone and insisted on dragging me along. "What's there to be afraid of during the day?" I laughed at him. "This is a cemetery, and it's very dark." He gritted his teeth and said.

Shinichi Watada just won the Diligence Award from the company a few days ago. He has been with the company for thirty-five years. Looking back now, even he finds it incredible. He has never changed jobs since joining his current company thirty-five years ago after graduating from a second-rate private university. It's not a big deal that he has been working for the same company. He has not moved in the past thirty-five years. He has to drive from his home to the company every day. This is really strange!

Four bearers carried the sedan, bumping along the mountain path. In the sedan, Lao Cai, the prefect of Jinling, who had just finished his lunch, was humming a ditty as the sedan rocked, and dozed off in a daze. Suddenly, a gust of mountain wind blew by with dust, making it difficult to open one's eyes. The four bearers carrying the sedan raised their hands in unison, rubbed their eyes, and moved on. The four of them all had the same thought: The adult is overweight again. Tonight, either let him lose weight or let him get a raise! In the sedan, Lao Cai's sleepiness disappeared, and he looked at the young man who suddenly appeared in the sedan following the dusty wind with great vigilance.

Dusk. A girl in white sits alone on a rock by the sea, her beautiful face reflecting the sunset. She put her hands behind her, swung her legs down comfortably, and paddled her bare feet back and forth on the water. The salty sea breeze blew from a distance, blowing her waist-length hair away. From time to time, she brushed the messy hair behind her eyes behind her ears, but her eyes looked forward unblinkingly, as if she were on a pilgrimage. This is a small island. She has lived on this island since she was born and has never left, so she is full of curiosity about the other side of the sea. She often comes here secretly, sitting facing the boundless sea and feeling the breath of the sea brought by the sea breeze.

"Don't be like me when you grow up!" This is my father's mantra. "A man, why should I only carry a purse for others? Look at me, I have been carrying a purse for others all my life. You, when you grow up, you must stand out and be a person who lets others carry a purse for you!" During the evening drink, the drunken father's cheeks shone. So he would complain endlessly. The resentment that had been pent up in his heart seemed to burst out under the influence of alcohol. However, this kind of resentment can only be expressed in front of family members. "Mikifu, you must remember your father's grievances in this life!" Whenever my father was drunk and hazy, tears would flow down his face. My mother, on the other hand, always seemed restless.

The night wind is like a blade, cutting people's faces with pain. The bright moon hung high in the sky, and the man in black clothes in a cloak floated to a small dilapidated temple without moving. He paused for a moment to make sure that no one was following him, and then walked into the temple in a cool manner. In the darkness, you can vaguely see a seated statue of Tathagata directly in front of you. The altar is in a mess, and there is nothing but dust in the incense burner. The man in black walked to the altar, held the incense burner with both hands, and turned it three times to the left and right. With a "quacking" sound, the seated statue of Tathagata automatically moved backwards, and a row of downward steps appeared below the seated statue. The man in black stepped onto the steps, and the long corridor revealed a pale yellow light. Every ten steps on the walls on both sides, there was a fist-sized luminous pearl inlaid on each side. At the end, there was a stone door blocking his eyes. The stone gate is divided into nine palaces by six lines, three horizontal and three vertical.

It was already past three o'clock in the afternoon when Toko Koike came out of the magazine office. It was midsummer in August, and the bright sunshine swayed in front of her eyes, and she suddenly collapsed. When Tazi woke up, he found a girl squatting next to him. The girl was about fifteen or sixteen years old. She had a pair of cute eyebrows under her shiny black hair. She looked at Tazi with a worried look on her face: "Are you okay? I called you several times but you didn't respond." "It's okay. She must have had heatstroke." Tazi showed a forced smile and said, "Thank you." "I'll help you." The girl pulled her up with some difficulty. Although Tazi repeatedly stated that she was fine on the way, the girl still insisted on sending her home.

Zou Tao and Gong Sanhai climbed over the last mountain ridge, and a black thing appeared in front of them. That thing had the majestic posture and momentum of a mountain, but it was completely black, with no grass or trees growing on it - it was an abandoned cinder mountain. Looking around, there was no sign of anyone. Gong Sanhai silently beat a drum in his heart, "0" asked Zou Tao to bring him here. Even if he was killed, chopped and cooked, no one would know about it in eight or ten years. Just when Gong Sanhai was in a daze, Zou Tao pushed him gently, and he slipped and rolled down the hillside.

Sakai Mitsue's peaceful and somewhat boring life began to be broken from that day on. At the end of April, the sky was blowing with dry winds. That afternoon, as usual, Mitsue watched the neighbor's child Ikuo nibbling the olive bread leftover from the school lunch, while asking him where he was going for spring outing, chatting endlessly to pass the time. With the house key hanging around his neck, Ikuo is what society calls a "key child." Ikuo is in the fifth grade of elementary school and lives in a two-story cement building opposite Mitsumasa. He has no father, and his mother works in an insurance company, so Ikuo always hangs his keys inside his sweater or shirt. After school, he often picks up his schoolbag and goes straight to Mitsuae's house to play.

The taxi arrived at the door of the house, and Miura got out of the car after paying the fare. There have been days when I haven't drank so happily. The warm night breeze mixed with fresh green blew on my hot cheeks, making me feel particularly comfortable. So, he stood in the yard and enjoyed the breeze for a while before walking towards the door of his house. The house was shrouded in darkness, and it seemed that his wife Yuko had not returned from a class reunion. This is a family without children. The 46-year-old university professor had to take out the key to open the door by himself. He smiled bitterly, but he did not feel unhappy at all. Miura opened the door, walked into the living room the size of six reed mats, turned on the light and started to change clothes. This is a set of his habitual actions. He looked up at the clock hanging on the wall again. It was just past 10 o'clock.

The sudden appearance of foreign proteins on the morning of Wednesday, October 11, was the molecular equivalent of the Black Death. This is a death sentence that cannot be mitigated. Cedric Harling knew nothing of the details of what was going on inside his body. In sharp contrast to his consciousness, every cell in his body knew clearly what kind of disaster awaited them. This new protein is spreading into them with an inexorable force, and the effect of a small amount of enzyme is completely insignificant to these menacing newcomers. This new protein causes the death hormone gene to appear in Cedric's subbrain glands. Once this fatal gene appears, its consequences are inevitable. Death hormones begin to join together in large amounts, enter the bloodstream, and are carried throughout the body from the bloodstream.

It has been thirty-eight years since I graduated from college. Sometimes I feel that this period of time seems to be very long, and sometimes I feel that it is just a blink of an eye. Starting from tomorrow, every day will be Sunday with free time at your disposal. No more having to think about your bedtime the night before for the next day. Gone are the days of having to prepare yourself for the day ahead of tomorrow. Yiba Tieji was suddenly freed from the fetters of the company, and couldn't help but feel at a loss about the unlimited freedom that was displayed in front of him. The white-collar habits cultivated over thirty-eight years cannot be changed overnight. I know in my heart that I don't have to go to work tomorrow, but I will probably go to bed at the same time at night; I will still open my eyes at the same time the next morning. Then I will prepare my clothes for work. Then you will realize that from today on, you no longer have to go to the company to work. However, I couldn't help but leave the house and walk to the station at the same time as before. Ah, the deplorable white-collar habits!

The photo of Pesi Ti Ti Rui Ling stared down at me sitting on the sofa. She looks about ten years old in the photo, four years younger than she is now. I've seen more recent photos of her and she's rapidly developing into a beautiful young lady. But when I think of her, I think of the gap-toothed child playing in what to her was the safest place in the world. I can see her opening gifts one after another on Christmas morning; I can see her playing with her puppy; I can also see her watching those cartoons. And I thought of everything that was to come: studying for final exams, introducing her nervous prom boyfriend to her parents, taking her children to visit her grandparents. I don't want to imagine my partner not going home. Detective Penny Moore handed me a cup of coffee and sat down next to me.

There was no festive atmosphere at all in the Phoenix Student Apartments of Beijiang University on New Year's Eve. Because it is winter vacation at this time, most students have gone home. The few who didn't go home mostly went to attend the New Year's party organized by the school. The cold wind is biting and the chill is overwhelming. As Song Zitian walked in this deathly silent garden, he suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of panic in his heart. Traveling with him was a fat man wearing black-rimmed glasses named Sun Lang. He and Song Zitian were roommates in the same dormitory. Instead of attending a series of activities such as the New Year party organized by the school, they stayed in the dormitory and played computer games all day.

It's almost New Year, and the shops on both sides of the street have begun to be decorated with lights. We walked along, occasionally stopping to look at the cheap New Year goods sold by street vendors. Zhou Fan stood behind me in deep thought. I picked out a few blessing characters, paid the money and turned around. I found that Zhou Fan was a little distracted, so I asked: "Still thinking about that case?" Zhou Fan then realized that I had finished buying, stretched out his hand to tighten the scarf, smiled and said, "Well, I have been investigating for a week, but Mr. Xinlan Everything about Si's behavior is normal. I'm a little bit at a loss what to do." I sighed helplessly. Zhou Fan was always used to confuse cases with life. He patted my lovely tenant on the shoulder and said, "Let's go find Chen Yin first. We'll talk about the case in the afternoon."

Justin had always been naive enough not to think of the place as Wheeler's abandoned private property or as a wide compound surrounded by high walls and thick hedges. This place is located far north on Skeld Lesevøj Road. Since he could not tell others about it, he secretly recorded the exciting scenes he saw in that place from right to left in his own words. Every time he sneaked into this place, he felt more excited, more terrifying, and more satisfied than before. The multiple dives were like a continuous trek, and he was using calculus to solve the problems in his head. He never imagined that in this place, he would encounter horrors that truly made him break out in a cold sweat.

The sunshine was soft, and a few straw plants were swaying in the autumn wind, as if they had been burned by a golden fire. There was a notice taped to the wall. The cold wind had playfully torn off a few corners, but the handwriting was still clear. Recently, female flower pickers have appeared in the city, and several people have been victimized. Anyone with a handsome appearance as a young man should not go out alone at night. Anyone who provides clues to the arrest will be rewarded fifteen taels of silver. A little girl stopped under the wall, her big eyes full of curiosity, like pods full of life in the field. She stared at the notice and read it up and down several times, and finally couldn't help laughing.

One night, after teaching classes at Portland's famous Alister Lisfield Revue, he was suddenly murdered. Several dance students called to report the incident. When they came for morning class, they saw a teacher running crazily on the campus, shouting: "She is dead, she is dead!" The teacher was unconscious. Later, he was taken to the hospital and given a cardiotonic injection, and he calmed down. Legal person Palema Jitani died in her office. She was fully clothed and sitting peacefully on the floor, leaning against an overturned chair, her legs spread apart, her feet together, and her hands the same way. Apparently, the killer tied her hands with rope before she died.

"Ah! Oh my god!" I opened the door, and the scene in front of me made me scream. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. The room was empty and there was nothing left. When I saw my husband carrying a box outside the window, I screamed: "Tom, Tom, we've been robbed! There's nothing left." As soon as Tom entered the door, the box in his hand fell to the ground with a plop. He ran over to me and hugged me, dumbfounded. "How - how -" He opened his mouth for a long time and couldn't say a word. He turned and rushed upstairs. I heard the thump of his footsteps, the sound of the door opening and closing, and his rough breathing. "Call the police!" He yelled. I fumbled for my phone in my handbag. It's unbelievable. Even the phone on the wall in our kitchen was taken away, and all of our son's rooms on the second floor were stripped bare.

Deputy Inspector Xili did not return to his home until around eight o'clock in the evening. "Mr. Wang has been here several times." After hearing the words of his wife Qiuzi who was waiting at the door, Xili remembered that he and Wang Renming had made an appointment with the two families to play mahjong together that night. Nishiri lives on the first floor of Kitamachi Cultural Residence in Kobe City, and the resident upstairs is a Chinese named Wang Renming. It is said that Wang Renming works in the Singapore Overseas Chinese Foreign Trade Buyer's Office. Wang Renming - slender figure, broad eyebrows, pointed chin. Although he is 36 years old, he is always playful and has a childlike look on his face. The young couple is truly a match made in heaven, and so is his Japanese wife Masako. Although she has long passed her prime, she is equally lively, cheerful, innocent and romantic.

He passed the festival peacefully, which can be said to be blessing upon blessing. When the god of death made a face to him, he saw the cute little eyes of his six-year-old daughter Tonya, so he told himself that he must not die. For Tonya, for his wife, for Nastya, for his grandchildren, and of course for himself, he must survive. Yana held two plates of dishes in her hands, hummed a little tune, and flew into the living room like a butterfly. She glanced around the table and found an open space. Before and after Boris' surgery, she stayed by her husband's side all night long, caring for him meticulously, and fighting the disease with him. Boris looked at his wife with fascination. She was so young, well-proportioned, delicate and beautiful, just like a vibrant spring. She is only thirty-five years old. And he - didn't dare to think about his age. "Boris, phone.

The young people in the bookstore didn't seem to feel the boss's impatience. He stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window and gently turned a page of the book without even changing the posture of holding the book. But if the boss stands up and walks to the young man, he will find that the black stage in the center of the bookstore will become clear. Surrounding the stage were countless girls, wearing uniform red dresses, who were shouting the names of their idols. Those shouts became less clear when they reached the third floor. They seemed to be "Li Qingtian" or "Li Jingtian", but no matter which name they were, they were not famous.

It was Xiaojiang who suggested the trip. She said it was to commemorate the first wedding anniversary. "How interesting it is to talk around the stove in an old wooden house in the heavy snow!" Xiaojiang said, with a girlish brilliance in his eyes. I work as a section manager at a large electrical appliance company in Shinjuku, which is a very successful career path for me at 36 years old. Xiaojiang is a clerk of a company that has close business relations with our company. He is nearly 30 years old. After the leaders of both parties matched up, we met. After that, I was attracted by her cheerful personality and got married soon after. She is an ordinary woman. That's why I think she is such a perfect match for me.

"I never want to, never want to... Leave you!" Jiang Yao fell into the girl's arms and murmured. The girl hid her face behind the paper fan. She scolded: "You always say this, and I really believe it. What can you do?" Jiang Yao pushed away the paper fan, stroked the girl's cheek, and said softly: "Ping'er, don't you believe what I said?" "I believe it." Yin Ping'er's eyes The light fell on Jiang Yao's face, which looked like a woman's beautiful face. She just smiled and said: "But some things will never happen according to your wishes. For example, can your Jiang family accommodate me, a fireworks girl who came from a brothel?" "Why not? I like you, and you like me. As long as we are willing, no one can stop it." In Yunzhou City, Dongcheng corner.

The famous Western star Buck Horn plans to return to the screen, but he doesn't want to be shot dead while performing horse stunts in the oval arena. The New York City Police Department mobilized its entire force and conducted an unprecedented search, but to no avail. A month later, at the same place, in the same scene, the God of Death repeated his tricks again, replicating another murder. The two murder cases were the same, but they were also shrouded in mystery: under the watchful eyes of 20,000 spectators, the police were unable to find the murder weapon, the murderer, or the motive.

In the wooden bathtub, she became a curled, brown object, lying in the filthy black water. Outside the basin are densely packed small insects. I forced myself to take another look and hurriedly closed my eyelids. I was dizzy with shock. A foul smell instantly overwhelmed me. I held my breath and stumbled out of the porch into the freezing rain. Oh my God! Poor Carol!

The last person who survived painfully recalled that night: every 10 minutes when the lights went out, one of them died cruelly... Seven classmates woke up one after another. They were either pressing their heads or rubbing their eyes. They were surrounded by silvery gray. This was a big room. It was like they were in a dream, not knowing where they were. There is an embedded round fluorescent lamp above the head, sealed inside the glass, emitting pale light, illuminating the cold darkness around it. Surrounded by stainless steel walls, rectangles protrude like neatly arranged, cold steel drawers in a morgue. There are no windows; there is a red quartz clock hanging on one wall. There is a larger upright rectangle in the corner of the room. It should be a door. It doesn't even have a handle. They seemed to have been imprisoned here and had been unconscious.

The letter that Zhou Lu never believed would appear was finally sent. Blue envelope, express delivery, just like the other party promised. There is a faint aroma on the envelope. It doesn't smell like perfume, nor does it smell like ink. Zhou Lu was very familiar with this smell. It's the aura of that person. An ancient thing called opium. That person's name was Peng Ying, and she had been receiving treatment at the psychological counseling center where Zhou Lu worked for more than half a year. A week ago, Peng Ying suddenly decided to end treatment. Peng Ying's recovery situation is not ideal, but she said that she has been busy with work recently and will no longer have free time. Peng Ying's problem is insomnia. When she couldn't stand it anymore, she took opium. A small piece of black paste brings a brief moment of tranquility to the mind.

"What do you want?" Hearing the chef ask, the mysterious man wearing light brown sunglasses just muttered in a low voice while pointing at the counter with one hand. "I've kept you waiting. Sea urchin, salted salmon roe, scallops, crab sauce, and white shrimp!" The sushi chef energetically announced the names of the dishes and placed the freshly made sushi neatly in front of the mysterious man. Each piece of sushi comes in two pieces. But the man only ate one of each kind, and neither took away nor touched the other. Time passed by and the sushi was slowly drying out. The man stared intently at the tea cup in his hand, seemingly unaware that the sushi chef was looking at him from time to time. Gradually, the sushi chef's face turned red, his nostrils dilated, and his thick eyebrows furrowed into an inverted figure.

My name is Toshie Ohta, and I work in the same company as Yukiko Sada. We both came to work in this company at the same time, and our desks were right next to each other. In seven years, we have never been transferred. Because we look similar, colleagues say we are like twin sisters. It just so happens that we are both 29-year-old single girls. Colleagues who are fond of joking often say: "You want to get married at the same time, right? Why haven't you disclosed your relationship?" Whenever we hear such questioning jokes, we have an unspeakable annoyance in our hearts, so we have to laugh it off. Before getting off work on Friday, I said to Yukiko: "Let's spend the weekend." "How to spend the weekend?" "The mechanical work, the same thing every day, is really boring.

The time now is exactly 9 o'clock in the morning, and JR Ewing has been at work for more than an hour. During this period of time, he made more than ten phone calls to more than ten countries according to different time differences, carefully read a rather complex financial report, read the "Wall Street Journal" from cover to cover, and made a net profit of US$62,000 in Hong Kong's financial market based on the temporary price difference between the pound and the yen. At this moment, he was thinking about finding some small happy things to relax. "Phyllis," he said, picking up the intercom phone that was connected to his secretary, "you can let George Upfield in now."

The famous Western star Buck Horn plans to return to the screen, but he doesn't want to be shot dead while performing horse stunts in the oval arena. The New York City Police Department mobilized its entire force and conducted an unprecedented search, but to no avail. A month later, at the same place, in the same scene, the God of Death repeated his tricks again, replicating another murder. The two murder cases were the same, but they were also shrouded in mystery: under the watchful eyes of 20,000 spectators, the police were unable to find the murder weapon, the murderer, or the motive.

Catherine is dead. She was murdered in a hotel and her children were missing. It was unbelievable, but when I saw the sad eyes of my husband, Gordon, my whole body immediately went limp. My mother's arrival finally shattered my prayers that this was just a nightmare. I threw myself into my mother's arms and cried sadly together with her. I wanted to scream and smash things. How could such a terrible thing happen to my sister? Catherine was kind, honest, and always willing to help those less fortunate. She once worked as a lawyer for a company, and later became an ordinary social worker out of love.

At 17:00 on August 3, 2012, Hongjing is an ancient city. The heavy rain had been falling for most of the day. It finally stopped in the evening, but the sky was terrifyingly cloudy. The staff at the Tianqing Temple scenic spot had a free day. When they were about to get off work, they were told by tourists who suddenly broke in that the side hall was leaking and there was water on the ground. After arriving at the side hall, the previously reported tourists had disappeared. It was dark, and the old temple was filled with the smell of damp and rotten wood. It was still bright at the entrance of the temple, and after walking a few steps inside, I could only see the vague shapes of the sculptures in the temple.

"Is that all you have to tell me?" "Miss Strange, I think you will find that this is completely enough." "Just such an address..." "One more suggestion: you have to make a phone call as soon as possible. The client is already distraught and can't wait." Violet Strange, with a hint of melancholy on her normal and mischievous face, looked at her employer with a puzzled expression before turning towards the door. She has asked her employer to investigate a case.

As he sat down in his first-class seat on the nonstop flight to Dallas, he found himself wondering how and why his father had been murdered. The man who killed Jock Ewing didn't know Jock. In fact, he probably had never even heard of him. In addition, what is confusing is that the person behind the murder, the person who wanted Jock dead, JR realized that he had never seen it before. Before the huge plane taxied onto the runway, JR's mind couldn't help but return to the scene between him and Joanna Lessing last night. "Okay," JR said, still clutching the photo. "You know why I came to Washington."

When the incident happened, I called Li Hao. He was queuing up to buy juice, and he said he was buying a box of juice and getting a USB flash drive as a gift. He was very unhappy there: "Xiao Tong, you only take the initiative to call and date me when you are working on a case." He still showed up half an hour later, throwing up and down a white flash drive that he bought for juice, and flipping through my case records: "Tomb robbing? Oh, there is an autopsy today? I'm impressed!" Even if there were ancient corpses, it was not Li Hao's turn to operate because he was not an expert, but a forensic doctor - Qinggang City Police Department has only one forensic doctor, and one person supports a department. As a new jobber, I have to call Li Hao senior in terms of seniority. It's just because we've been drinking a lot together that our relationship is not so formal. This case is indeed related to tomb robbing, but there is no body.

"At 9 p. M. On July 10, Ram Jindel, a soldier of the Eighth Mountain Mixed Regiment, fired a shot at each of the two captains of his infantry company with a rifle. Captain Wal-Mart died on the spot, and Captain Goble was shot in the shoulder and was seriously injured. According to the doctor's diagnosis report, if the bullet had hit the point again, Two inches lower, Captain Goble will definitely die. According to Article 69 of the Military Law and Article 302 of the Criminal Law, our military court accepted this shooting case caused by the infantry company soldier Ram Jindel..." Military prosecutor Major Polly stated the case carefully.

The first thing people told me was that he killed his wife, the second thing was that he made a huge fortune before he was even forty years old, and the third thing was that he was going to sell Cramond Castle for a million pounds so that he could move to a small island in the Caribbean, where he would fly his own private jet and live a carefree life with female secretaries and mistresses. "My dear, you must not listen to these nonsense." Katie Clyde, the country doctor's wife, said: "Charlie is just a 32-year-old widower who just wants to buy a piece of land in Florida." "But he does have a big family fortune!" I retorted, because everyone regarded him as a complete capitalist.

On the morning of July 16, 1990, Walter Lang Jr., The intelligence officer in charge of the Middle East and South Asia at the U. S. Defense Intelligence Agency, was at his desk analyzing satellite photos of the Middle East that had been sent earlier in the morning. One day ago, the desert areas in southeastern Iraq and north of Kuwait were empty and deserted, but today an Iraqi T-72 tank unit appeared. The photos also show that the railway lines are transporting various military equipment. Only President Saddam's elite Republican Guard in the Iraqi army possesses such advanced equipment. This guard is mainly responsible for the task of protecting the capital Baghdad and is usually stationed in central Iraq not far from the capital. So what are these tanks doing hundreds of miles away?

Miss Strange did not always appear to be brooding-at least not at great gatherings or in the public eye. However, at Mrs. Provost's musical evening, she would definitely be intoxicated and reach a state of selflessness. If it was a kind of elegant music, people could understand her lost look. However, the music was obviously of an average level, and Violet's hearing was so keen, and her sense of music had always been well-trained. If it wasn't really the best music, she wouldn't waste her precious time.

"You have already studied this case?" "I am not the one who has studied this case." "How can you provide such eye-catching headlines for those newspapers if you have not studied this case in recent days?" "I don't read those newspapers. I haven't read a newspaper for a whole week." "Miss Strange, your social activities must be very tightly arranged at the moment?" "That is natural." "Then your professional sense is temporarily on hold?" "How can you see that?" "Don't you ask yourself if you have read those newspapers?"

Whenever he rode his bicycle to the slope next to Wuzoji Temple, Kyouta felt a sense of relief. When he came out of the store across from the station, the milk bottles on the school bag rack made him bend down, forcing him to push his feet as hard as he could. At this time, the cold morning air gradually blended into the atmosphere of the eastern sunrise, making Kyouta feel relieved that today's work was coming to an end. Kyouta is not bored with the job of delivering milk every morning. However, he is a third-grade elementary school student after all. His body is sluggish and thin. Riding a bicycle on the bumpy gravel road and carrying a bag with milk bottles up to the fourth floor is indeed a very hard job.

The time now is exactly 9 o'clock in the morning, and JR Ewing has been at work for more than an hour. During this period of time, he made more than ten phone calls to more than ten countries according to different time differences, carefully read a rather complex financial report, read the "Wall Street Journal" from cover to cover, and made a net profit of US$62,000 in Hong Kong's financial market based on the temporary price difference between the pound and the yen. At this moment, he was thinking about finding some small happy things to relax. "Phyllis," he said, picking up the intercom phone connected to his secretary, "now, you can let George Upfield in."

At the bottom of the thick, viscous liquid, empty pupils stared into the void. Candlelight casts complex shadows on the patio. A windowless, dark room. The stone platform was soaked in blood. The smell of oil mixed in the cold air was so strong that it choked your nose. In the corner of the basement, there is a huge sarcophagus filled with olive oil. At the bottom of the sarcophagus, there are countless corpses--dismembered corpses--this is the hospital's autopsy room. On the autopsy table, there was the body of an elderly man. From the opened chest, organs that had become horribly colored were exposed. A slender man was leaning over to observe the putrid corpse. The flame of the flickering candle reflected his upright silhouette. The man held paper and charcoal in his hands, and in the silent autopsy room late at night, he was sketching the corpse.

Whenever I think of this incident, I always feel extremely sad and devastated. Now, many years have passed, but every time I think about it, it is still as heartbreaking as before, and it is unforgettable for a long time. That day, I felt cold, shivering, and restless. You didn't listen to my advice of "don't go anywhere, stay at home with me" and went to the appointment alone. I ran to the balcony, watched you get into the car, and watched you leave with sad eyes. Then, the phone rang. But when I picked up the phone, there was no sound again, just like what happened in recent days. The calls came sometimes during the day and sometimes at night. There was silence at the other end of the line, no sound at all.

They decided to let Kyubey go in first. Darren Dick explained: First, Chubby is the oldest and most experienced person among them, so he should take the lead; second, Chubby is a newcomer to the team, and this is an opportunity to prove himself; third, Darren said that he did not agree with Chubby coming, but he had to come. Also, Qiu was fatter, and criminals hiding in the house would dig holes inside to avoid the police. Only someone who was bulky and slow to run could lure the criminals out. It was not until the other two saw clearly that they ran to report. Darren added that there will definitely be rewards, even money. "How do we know if there will be a reward?" Kyubey asked. Darren said: "There are always rewards for catching criminals." "How do we know there must be criminals inside?"

His head began to throb and ache again. Ming Ruotao took out two painkillers from his pocket and threw them into his mouth. He unscrewed the cap of the mineral water bottle and took a few sips. The scenery in front of me became a little blurry, my hands and feet seemed to be unable to control themselves, and I felt numb. He sat on the flower bed on the side of the road for a while, and then he felt the pain gradually receding. The barrier between his mind and the world seemed to have become much thinner, but the soles of his feet were a little soft. Wiping the sweat from his head, he stood up, shook his head, identified the direction, and walked along the road to a teahouse on the side of the road. This teahouse has been open for more than 10 years. In the past few years, he has come here often, and every time he comes, he meets the same person. Now the man was sitting at the table by the window, peering out through the glass window nervously. When he saw him, he quickly raised his hand and waved, showing an expression of relief.

This is an envelope you can buy anywhere. Although the calligraphy on the envelope is not that beautiful, it is generally in neat block letters. The recipient written on it is "Mr. Sekiguchi Shoichi". Sekiguchi Shoichi... This is Chikako's husband. Such an envelope has been sent three months ago. Usually one letter comes every month or half a month. The sender's name is "Kakutaro Tamai" and his address is No. ××, Matsubara 5-machi, Setagaya-ku. Of course, the font looks like it was written by a man. Sekiguchi Shoichi has been the president of the Omori branch of Dayang Bank, a city bank, for more than two years.