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Alley was an ordinary young worker at Meat Factory No. 045 On Rhea Starship 3. When a dinosaur riot broke out in the Meat Factory, he used a large-caliber shotgun to knock over two dinosaurs blocking the way, then crawled over the dinosaur's carcass and ran towards the spacecraft launch silo deep in the factory. Unfortunately, he was a step too late. All six spacecrafts in the launch silo had already taken off, leaving only an empty silo filled with thick smoke... Alley yelled at those unloyal colleagues. However, the collapse of the destroyed production line drowned out his unbearable curses, and a dinosaur with a body length of more than five meters suddenly jumped in front of him! Alley raised his gun and fired, but the dinosaur nimbly avoided his gun's muzzle. The roaring bullet penetrated a cooling tube, and liquid nitrogen sprayed out in white mist, slowing down the dinosaur's movement.

I was at a campground not far off Interstate 5 when the orange countdown came on. It was very windy that day, so I smoked with one hand and pressed my lake blue dress with the other hand. I blew out a smoke ring into the sky, then looked up and watched the smoke ring being quickly blown away by the wind. Through the traces of smoke that were about to dissipate, I suddenly discovered that there was a bright and pleasing orange in the dark night sky. Looking carefully, it was a long series of numbers. I counted nine digits, and every second or so, the last digit would be subtracted by one.

Even when the sun is at its strongest at noon, this suite on the top floor of an apartment building still maintains the same darkness as at midnight: the adjustable shading panels on the inside of the roof skylight have all been lowered and adjusted to the deepest black; the floor-to-ceiling glass windows embedded in the walls are tightly blocked by gold-rimmed artificial silk curtains with classical shapes. There were no lights in the room, and even the LED lights on the control panels of household appliances were deliberately turned off by their owners. The only source of light came from the holographic image on the desk-and the man frozen in the light. If an ethnographer from the Morgan era were asked to analyze this man's appearance, he would probably immediately point out that this is the most standard male individual of the Mongolian race.

I work for a small company with a modest income, so in my spare time I drive my Peugeot 308 to carry passengers to earn some money to support my family. In other words, I am a hard-working white-collar worker in a small company during the day, and a hard-working illegal car driver at night. That evening, I parked my car at the entrance of the Xianlin Center subway station and waited for passengers. This place is located in the suburbs and has inconvenient public transportation, so the black car business is pretty good. When a subway train arrived at the station, a large wave of people poured out of the station entrance, and black car drivers stepped forward to solicit business. I sat in the car and didn't move. I never take the initiative to solicit customers, because I don't want to endure the indifference and supercilious looks of strangers. Maybe it's because I was obscurant in my studies when I was a child, and I couldn't save the pitiful face of a little intellectual. Therefore, my income is much less than that of other drivers. My wife often scolds me for this: "I can't even drive a black car for others!"

When the game "Singularity in the Abyss" stopped, "Ang" controlled by Tom was holding a lightsaber and fighting fiercely with a monster with a lizard-like face and a bumpy body. In the vast Estan Valley, the coalition soldiers aiming to save Princess Deia are fighting against the demonic monsters released by Zeraz Castle. At the end of the valley, Zeraz Castle, half hidden in the clouds, stands tall. It seems within reach, but it is far away in the horizon. At this moment, their Princess Deya is still bound by the "Dark Ice Seal" in Zeraz Castle, and her life hangs on a thread. In the game, "Ang" has immortal life, but if he loses too much blood, he will still die temporarily and will be resurrected in his birthplace. However, even if he takes the fastest aircraft to return to the Estan Valley, it will take ten days - which will not help the outcome of the campaign.

"Sometimes, I feel like you and I are in two different worlds." "What do you mean?" "You often talk to things I can't see, as if you are talking to yourself, but are you communicating... With whom?" Natasha did not answer, just stared at the fragrant coffee in front of her, at the white foam floating on it, and a small vortex. She didn't want to drink coffee at the moment, she just wanted to light a cigarette, but Gulian didn't like the taste of cigarettes, so she hadn't smoked since leaving Eastern Europe. "Why do you ask this?" After a long silence, Natasha finally spoke with difficulty. "I don't know either... I just feel that if I had known you better, I might not be here today..." Gulian hesitated to speak, and kept picking at the shoulder strap of her leather bag with her hands. It was obvious that she, like Natasha, was in a dilemma.

Pan Suran is the kind of person who will not appear repeatedly in my life. Of course, if he also appears in your life, then maybe you will sigh like me, how can there be such a perfect bastard in the world. I don't mean any harm, especially to a bastard like Pan Seoran who is so unparalleled and courteous. He is about 1.8 Meters tall, and his appearance... Well, when most women see him, their hearts will flutter with excitement - but who knows? After all, I'm not a woman. His temperament always reminds me of an animal like a black horse, and his behavior is never sloppy. When he smiled, his right forehead rose slightly, with a bit of the relaxed and playful look of a youth idol, which naturally also covered a scar the size of a bullet at the corner of his eyebrow.

Jack moved the suitcase to the curb, locked the door behind him, and walked around to the back of the house. However, for him, this side is the positive side. Here you can see the lonely beach beneath the crashing waves. At this moment, the tide is receding, leaving a mess of garbage on the winding beach. When he and Martha first moved to this village, the debris on the shore was mixed with bits of seaweed and dead crabs. But now the garbage on the beach is all man-made items. Scattered red plastic bottle caps are as glaring as warning lights. Jack stood on the beach, looking at the dark gray waves. Peterson, the janitor, came to say goodbye to Jack. "The children will come to pick you up, right?" He asked.

It was late at night when the spacecraft entered the atmosphere of Behemoth Star. I was woken up by the broadcast and opened the visor. The clear moonlight immediately shone in. The middle-aged woman sleeping next to me shook her head and continued to sleep again. I leaned close to the window and looked down. Clouds like fish scales spread out under the spacecraft and extended to the end of my field of vision. A white whale was swimming in the clouds. Its huge and graceful body danced out, drew an arc, and plunged into the clouds, never to be seen again. Outside the window, there is an altitude of 30,000 feet, with a temperature of more than 50 degrees below zero. I wonder if these creatures that grew up in the warm golden sea would feel the cold. I pressed my forehead against the window and looked at it for only a few seconds before I felt dizzy and my hands and feet began to shake. For Aye, I mustered up the courage, gritted my teeth, and crossed the sea of ​​​​stars to come to this planet at the end of the golden route, but this does not mean that I have overcome my phobia of navigation.

The sky seemed to be leaking and it was raining non-stop. On both sides of the narrow alley, the towering gray-white gables held up a light gray cloud curtain in mid-air, and beyond the cloud curtain, half of the dark sky was pressed heavily. The rain was pattering, and occasionally a clear bird's cry came from mid-air. When I turned around, I saw a sparrow spreading its wings, sliding under the gray eaves like a dim light, and then disappeared. The woman stopped, folded up the black umbrella, and gently opened the door. This is a small coffee shop on the corner selling Western snacks and hand-ground hot coffee. The air is filled with a warm and faint bitter fragrance, and the soft yellow light is warm and calming.

In the hinterland of the Frost Forest, today's lowest temperature was minus 159 degrees Celsius. As far as I know, if compared with most places in this universe, this temperature is actually not too low - you know, if converted to the thermodynamic temperature scale, which is the ancient unit of "Kelvin", the temperature outside is actually hundreds of degrees high. However, for a terrestrial planet with life, especially one like Cimmeria that has developed a complex surface ecosystem in the equatorial region, it is really too cold here. The endless cold is like an invisible shroud, tightly wrapping every inch of the world forever. Of course, that includes the building I'm in now.

This is a room on the third floor close to the street. The bathroom is not waterproofed, and the milky white wallpaper curls and foams from the corners. Other than that, this is not much different from an ordinary fast hotel. The TV can only receive a few channels, and the screen covered with snowflakes repeatedly plays current affairs news with advertisements in between - no matter which one is more interesting and real than the news. I arrived in City X too early. According to the agreement with Old A, he should arrive here around two o'clock this afternoon - first take a plane to City C, which is more than 300 kilometers away, and then take the green train that goes to City X every day. According to the plan, I would complete a jump about an hour after he got on the green train, and then open a room in City X to sort out the fatigue and confusion caused by the "travel". The time difference between us meeting can not be more than three hours.

Oseba stretched out her soft branches and inserted them into the soil. The soil is thick, moist and warm. She dug the root tips into the mound, tasting the sweetness of the nutrients as they coursed through the stems. Humming with contentment, she used the whole leaf to scoop soil into the large petals, and then wrapped the petals so that the soil could be distributed throughout the spacecraft. Her mentor, Jan Desai, sang farewell and welcome songs. A rustling sound rubbed the leaves at the top of Oseba. She placed the last small bag of soil, stood up, and stepped steadily over the tangled vines on the ground, entering the dimly lit inner room. A swarm of fireflies were flying around Jan Desai.

This is a room on the third floor close to the street. The bathroom is not waterproofed, and the milky white wallpaper curls and foams from the corners. Other than that, this is not much different from an ordinary fast hotel. The TV can only receive a few channels, and the screen covered with snowflakes repeatedly plays current affairs news with advertisements in between - no matter which one is more interesting and real than the news. I arrived in City X too early. According to the agreement with Old A, he should arrive here around two o'clock this afternoon - first take a plane to City C, which is more than 300 kilometers away, and then take the green train that goes to City X every day. According to the plan, I would complete a jump about an hour after he got on the green train, and then open a room in City X to sort out the fatigue and confusion caused by the "travel". The time difference between us meeting can not be more than three hours.

The "Glorious" exited warp flight, the sail ropes shook violently, and twelve huge light sails covered the sky, dragging the spacecraft rapidly, like dandelions flying on the wind in the abyss. At this moment, I was sitting idle in the command module, drinking a drink slowly, and watching with interest the captain and crew making preparations before slowing down. I am a senior inspector of Silver Star Mining Group Company, responsible for inspecting the most important production projects of the group. On this voyage, I came specifically for Richard Chabis, whose condition was worrying.

This is the first time I have seen such a sunset. The sun has set, like a goose egg yolk stuck to the skyline. The sky is a strange pink color, and ship-like clouds are floating low in the sky, as if they are within reach. I climbed to the seventh floor rooftop. A silhouette fell on the water pipe, holding hands and looking at the horizon, motionless, like an old cat basking in the sun. I couldn't see his face clearly in the brilliance of the setting sun, but I knew who it was. "Lao Tan." I called him. "Well." He turned around and said, "The typhoon is coming." "Is this what happens when a typhoon comes?" I asked, pointing to the blood on the horizon. "No. I just think this view is rare..." "The sweet potatoes won't be flooded, right? Those things will rot if soaked in water... All the sweet potatoes planted behind our dormitory are sweet potatoes."

Today is the 1272nd working day, Lan registered very clearly. The days are so long, time seems to have stopped on purpose. More than a thousand days are as long as a thousand years. Langdon drove the mine cart slowly forward in the tunnel. The ore on the tunnel wall shone like turquoise. The slender track was endless and extended forward. It not only bore the weight of the minerals, but also acted like a white line indicating the direction. This allowed Langdon to avoid getting lost in the alleyways extending underground. Many lanes are simply historical relics, hiding many little-known stories. Langdon still had to travel more than a thousand meters before he could return to the lifting station, where the miners were undergoing renovations. Langdon would eat in the restaurant and rest for a while before returning to work.

"We are bringing you a live broadcast of the police press conference, paying attention to the latest developments in the assassination of Congressman Haven Tepue two days ago..." In the virtual screen projection, the Chief of the Overland Police Department was facing the "concentrated fire" of dozens of automatic cameras. Hundreds of reporters filled the press conference hall, and the LED lights above people's heads were flashing crazily at a frequency that exceeded the limits of the naked eye, processing a massive amount of media data. At this moment, the focus of the whole country has gathered here. Despite the cool temperature, the bald director kept pulling up the collar of his shirt with his hands.

Have you ever seen a grassland? Looking in every direction, there is endless green. In summer, Malan flowers are dotted among the long thatch, and the wind blows through the grassland, whining lowly. Countless tiny sounds float far away like musical notes, forming a song of the grassland. Zhilan, Ziyang and I grew up on the grassland. Zhilan is the only girl among the three of us. She looks very good in the sun. Until now, there were only three children of our age. It was probably a strange thing to be born and raised on the grassland.

When the red warning light indicating "seat belt not inserted" came on, Warrant Officer Susanna Searle released the joystick that had been heated by the heat of her palms, put her arms against the windshield two feet away in front of her like a cat, and stretched out in the narrow cab of the shuttle. Although in theory this was a serious violation of driving regulations, at the moment, there were at least two reasons why she was allowed to do it: first, it would be unfair to anyone who had spent a full thirty standard hours in a tin with a volume of less than twenty cubic meters with three foul-smelling men, all without sleeping. For a woman who drives shuttles endlessly, temporary relaxation is extremely necessary; secondly, as far as she knows, those who have access to her driving records will no longer deduct points from her pilot license for this small problem, or throw her into the base's detention room for "suspected dangerous driving."

It's an ordinary morning. In the third floor of Chaoyang Middle School, the bell rang for the first period. This is Qi Fengyang's eighth year as a physics teacher. As always, he did not bring any lecture notes or do any courseware. He stood on the podium seemingly numbly, looking at the sleeping students under the stage, waiting for the bell to wake them up. "Class." "Stand up!" "Hello, teacher!" "Hello, classmates." Qi Fengyang said, "Please sit down. This class is a review class. Let's review the law of gravity and then complete related exercises."

I finished my academic report at Southwest University of Science and Technology and was about to leave the venue when someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder and called me. When I looked back, I saw a familiar face, but I couldn't place the name at the moment. Fortunately, the other party spoke first, saving me the embarrassment. "I'm Wu Xintian, do you remember me?" As soon as I heard this name, a tall, thin and elegant little boy immediately came to mind. That was my high school classmate, and I used to play chess with him during lunch breaks. Neither of them were very good at chess, but they always played passionately and got out of hand. "Oh, oh, it's you! Why are you here?" "I work at the Institute of Molecular Medicine next door. I heard that you were here to give a report today, so I came here to find you."

Borges once mentioned an encyclopedia from distant China in an article about the nineteenth-century British scholar John Wilkins. The classification of animals in the book is as follows: a) belongs to the emperor; b) fragrant; c) tame; d) suckling pig;

Qianqian sat alone on the edge of the playground waiting for the teacher to come. The big black dog waggled its tail lazily at her feet. It is so innocently blue that it cannot contain any other colors. Only a small bright white cloud floats on the farthest mountain, like a lost lamb. Qianqian likes to watch clouds the most. There seems to be another world above the clouds. Everything that exists on the earth and does not exist can be found in that world. The clouds in the mountains are the most changeable. When it was quiet, they were like a group of fairies, dancing their gauze skirts as if no one else was watching, and then walked down the mountain col step by step. When the clouds came, it was all gray far and near, and the mountains on the other side were not visible. Tiny droplets of water penetrated into people's clothes, and soon they condensed into raindrops and fell down. The dark clouds were like violent beasts fighting in the sky, and the clouds were filled with lightning and thunder.

When she came close to me, a soft warm fragrance came out of her sleeves, and the smell was exactly the same as before. I suddenly remembered what she had said when she gradually confided in me shortly after we got married: "I have been thinking recently that if I could take pictures of every expression I make, I could write a doctoral thesis. "Expression Management and Social Coping", what about this topic? Just Take smiles as an example. There are thousands of smiles in my mind, each of which requires different muscle groups. Each of them can respond to a variety of environments, and their combinations are endless! The only difficulty here is to accurately manage the expression, which requires a huge amount of calculations. It is simply amazing.

I had an ex-boyfriend with whom we had a very good relationship, but later we broke up and had no contact for many years. It's not because I hate this person so much, it's just that when we broke up, I encountered a series of unsatisfactory things in my life, and I was depressed and couldn't get out of it for a long time. In order to forget those bad days, I deleted his contact information and all chat records, and also set up message blocking. Whether it was his calls to me, messages he posted online, or even friends mentioning him in chat tools or posting photos with him, I could not hear or see them. In this way, I slowly started a new life. Now seven or eight years have passed, and for me, he has gradually become a familiar yet unfamiliar name that occasionally flashes into my mind.

January 2131 People once had wings. Nga, who sat alone on his golden throne atop Kirinyaga, gave humans the ability to fly so they could reach the succulent fruits on the highest branches of trees. But there was a man, a son of Gikuyu and the first man, who saw eagles and vultures soaring high in the sky, and he stretched out his wings and joined them. He hovered higher and higher, and soon he was far above all flying creatures. At this time, Enga suddenly reached out and grabbed the son of Gikuyu. "What have I done that you want to arrest me?" Asked the son of Gikuyu. "I live on the top of Mount Kirinyaga because it is the top of the world," Nga replied. "No one's head can be higher than mine."

"Amai, have you found any friendly machines still operating nearby?" Sarah Bennett asked in a low voice. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the growing panic in her heart, as if the panic would pop out of her throat at any time. I'm not a soldier, I'm just a woman who programs computers! I don't know what I'm doing, something must be wrong! Amai, the autonomous military intelligent robot, spoke in her ears calmly and without emotion: "There is a repair shop about one kilometer north. It looks intact, but it is very likely that it has been touched by the enemy. Be cautious when approaching."

When the steam locomotive puffed white smoke into the small station at Bright River, the stationmaster whistled quietly, looked down at his brass pocket watch, checked the arrival time on the work log, and at the same time stood on tiptoes and rocked his body back and forth. He was told that a very important cargo was to be delivered today, so he planned to personally supervise the unloading of the freight cars. Exciting things didn't happen often on Prince Edward Island, and he wanted to know what was in the box; he had been told to be careful when unpacking it when it arrived. The train came to a slow halt. The stationmaster glanced at the carriages and made sure everything was normal before pressing a gorgeous but cumbersome button on his breast pocket. The button buzzed, followed by a shrill whistle, alerting passengers that it was safe to exit the vehicle.

2889 AD, Ganymede, New Rome. The unusually strong lion dug anxiously into the sand-covered ground with its huge claws as sharp as steak knives. Its dark green eyes wandered back and forth maliciously through the iron gate amidst its heavy snoring. Its spotless, thick mane glows with a silky brassy sheen, its slender tail stands like a bottle brush between its muscular hind legs, and its bright red tongue hangs beyond its curved canine teeth stained with saliva. Those competition organizers whose aesthetic ability is no better than that of hamsters probably believe that this grinning look is a sign of so-called "wildness". But in my opinion, this beast is more like the silly guys on the coats of arms of medieval nobles who stick out their tongues and clumsily hold their shields or other things, rather than a living, flesh-and-blood beast.

"Correct rate, correct rate!" I angrily smashed the data that Xiao Li had just submitted on the table, picked up a pen and circled several big circles, "Here, here, and here! See for yourself, you also make such a simple mistake, and this is your result for a day? Do it again?" It's all hard work, but the result is wrong!" Xiao Zhang, who was on the desk on the left, peeked at me from behind the monitor, and I turned to him and yelled: "And you, the task assigned to you yesterday is about to be finished. Where are your things? With this kind of work progress, do you still want this job?"

The mission went smoothly. Six of the family of seven had already fallen into a pool of blood. Thunderstorm poured outside the window, and blood flowed on the floor, gradually covering its feet. Every step he takes leaves a bloody footprint. It doesn't cause any discomfort. Blood, isn't it just a viscous liquid mixed with various impurities? To it, blood is not much different from oil. What it cares about is, where is the last member of the family hiding? It turned its sonic receiver to maximum power and carefully discerned every tremor in the air.

Xiaomei is a young nurse who has just graduated from nursing school and works in a hospice hospital. A young girl like her unexpectedly received an employment letter from the military. In the hospital director's office, she uneasily saw an officer looking at the charts on the wall with his hands behind his back. Looking at the special resume with wings on the officer's chest, this person may be a veteran who participated in the battle of the solar system. The officer saw her and straight to the point took out a letter and said: "One of our old comrades is dying. Your head nurse recommended you to me. I hope you can accompany our old comrade through the last days of his life. This is his address."

A small, blue-and-brown planet orbits a dim star all alone; near this planet, an even smaller, grayish moon orbits it equally lonely and peacefully. Under the dim light of the star, the planet looked like a shriveled pear covered with blue mold, and its satellite looked like a rotten potato that didn't look good. An old space station parked quietly at the Lagrange point between the two, like a fly unable to choose between two pieces of food.

The wind brought the smell of green grass over the grassland, as if there were some colorful flags floating in the air, which dazzled me. I told this to Igor, and he just smiled: "To be able to smell what you smell, you have to be born a dog. I think it's just a little burnt smell." I also smelled the burnt smell. All that was left of the original landing module were some dirty, dark, slowly sinking fragments. Where the bracket is inserted into the soil, there is a smell of burnt earth, and occasionally dark red dirty water comes out. Anyone who sees this scene for the first time will be surprised... The colorful light spots trembled in the air and disappeared. I feel much better this way, but my throat is dry. But I'm used to it. Of course, I would not let a medical scientist from a well-established center make recommendations to activate my child's genes in this regard. I might not be able to stand it, but overall, I'm used to it.

When the Mongolian cavalry marched across the world, Genghis Khan was depressed for a long time. He imitated the Han people and built a palace. He spent all day in the palace, playing with the globe out of boredom. His riding crop and bow and arrows were thrown aside, and the attendants knelt on the ground in fear. He often looked at the globe and murmured to himself: "My achievements are unparalleled. My empire covers the whole world. Every land and every ocean is covered with my flag. Every yellow, black and white person surrenders to me. My name is mixed in the wind and blows all over the planet. And I am only forty-seven years old."

It's a clear morning. The sun shone on the wet lawns and sidewalks, making the cars parked on the roadside shine. The clerk walked forward quickly and kept looking through the instruction book. He frowned as he turned the pages. He paused for a moment in front of a small house with green cement and roughened walls, then walked into the backyard. The dog is sleeping in his kennel, with his back facing out. Only his big, fluffy tail was exposed. "Oh my God." The clerk patted the dog's butt and hit the folder with a pencil to make a noise, "Wake up, you guy." The dog shook his body, slowly poked his head out of the nest, blinked in the morning sunshine, and yawned. "Oh, it's you. Got a job?" After saying that, he yawned again. "Gonna bark."

That happened in early summer when I was fifteen. I was still an ignorant teenager at the time. My father was doing business in Europe during those years and left me under the care of his good friend Uncle Hai, who is also my godfather. My godfather was very kind to me, but he was also very strict. He only gave me an allowance of 10,000 yuan a month, and I was not allowed to have fun and spend money outside like other rich kids, lest I fall into depravity. Moreover, I was studying at an international elite college. The school was under closed management, and I couldn't even go into the city if I wanted to. I finally looked forward to a weekend afternoon when I could go out and play. I didn't even have my own car, so I took a taxi from my suburban villa to the city center square. In the majestic square, I walked around and around, looking around dizzyingly, feeling waves of excitement that I had never experienced before.

The hospital opened at eight o'clock. When Wang Cheng arrived at eight-thirty, the waiting hall was already full of people. People with sick faces were wrapped in bloated down jackets, leaning on two rows of benches, looking at him expressionlessly. Wang Cheng pulled on his custom-made black woolen coat and walked briskly through the aisle between the benches. This group of lifeless guys were like a vat of cabbage that had been soaked for ten years. They exuded a dying musty smell from afar, which was not pleasant at all. Wang Cheng frowned in disgust. Wang Cheng walked straight to the registration robot. This is a machine with a square head and a square face, with a twenty-inch touch screen on top. Wang Cheng took out his medical card and inserted it into the card slot at the bottom of the screen. The touch screen lit up, and the robot said angrily: "Welcome to Xinzhi Hospital, please verify your identity." Wang Cheng covered the screen with his palm.

The light of the star is distant and dim, the huge gaseous planet floats among the twinkling stars, and the majestic halo seems to be within reach. I fixed the mechanical exoskeleton to the shell of the colony. The number of the space colony - YG922 - was outlined in faded paint on the titanium alloy shell under my feet. In the vacuum of space, molten metal flows like syrup, and since there is no oxidation, welding becomes very easy. The antenna bracket damaged by micrometeors stands crookedly on the outer shell covered with cosmic dust, and is fixed by several bolts. As a space technician, it's my job to repair damaged external equipment. My right hand was amputated in an accident, and now the lost limb has been replaced by a mechanical prosthetic limb. Through the data cable connected to the prosthetic limb, I can connect the auxiliary computer of the mechanical exoskeleton with my own neural circuit.

I stood in the dock, surrounded by an electromagnetic fence. Outside the fence, four bailiff robots wearing titanium alloy armor closely monitored my every move. Gray marble pillars surround the solemn courtroom, and the huge holographic image of the judge gives people an invisible sense of oppression. There was no audience, no jury, I was the only one in the huge courtroom. The huge pressure from the surrounding space kept coming towards me, making me feel dizzy. "This court announces," the judge said in a sonorous and powerful voice, "that the defendant Long Yi is found guilty of first-degree murder and sentenced to death. He will be executed immediately!" A buzzing sound exploded in my mind. Who did I kill? Why was I found guilty? I have absolutely no memory of this.

It was as simple as I expected. The visitors walked around the coffin one by one, and the luminous algae surrounded the translucent lid of the coffin. Under the dim lighting, Abani's face seemed to be plump again. Her final days were painful, but fortunately - for each of us - they were not too long. I heard crying and it was Laila, the sister who was supposed to become our family this year. But now it looks like the wedding may have to wait until next year. The etiquette of mourning is necessary. The deceased may not care, but the living need to be comforted. I saw my aunts walking around the coffin. I supported my mother. She was dwarfed by grief, huddled, hunched, and weeping. I let the tears slide down my cheeks, but I couldn't spare my hands to wipe them away.

Tom had some trouble climbing over the fence. The iron railing caught his trousers, causing him to lose his balance in the air. "Ugh!" The wet grass hit his nose hard, and Tom curled up and let out a vague moan. Jerry stopped, turned around and shouted in a low voice: "Get up, idiot! We only have a few minutes left, the administrator will notify the police!" Tom pushed himself up with difficulty, blowing the blood from his nose, "Of course I know... Where is Pluto?" "He went inside with the detector, hurry up!" The boy wearing the mouse Jerry mask pulled him, and the two stumbled across a patch of water-logged grass and ran towards the depths of the cemetery. There was a disgusting damp smell in St. Christopher's Cemetery late at night, and the moonlight was very bright after the rain.

[24:00] Today is Mr. Claire's birthday. He went to work at his company as usual in the morning. In accordance with the tradition after five years of marriage, his wife prepared a bunch of birthday gifts for him at home that morning. After lunch, Mrs. Claire went out to buy food for a birthday party in the afternoon. Her husband returned home at 18:21. After receiving his call, Mrs. Claire started returning home from the supermarket. Forty-five minutes later, Mr. Claire's body was discovered in his apartment by Mrs. Claire who had just entered... [22:15] "The person in front of you is the murder suspect."

It is an irrefutable truth that the works of a great writer are often widely circulated, and Scott Heisler, known as one of the best writers of this century, is no exception. In any bookstore - whether it is the spacious halls of Bonno or Borders, or the small and dark bookstores in the streets and alleys, his works always occupy a secure place. He is so incredible, not only because it only took three months after he published his debut to become famous all over the world, but also because of his deliberately low-key style. Although everyone on the streets knew his name, no one ever told anyone who he really was. Heisler's emergence came suddenly. Just three months ago, I had never been exposed to this name.

Gavin met Carlson for the first time at a charity dinner hosted by the Flare Fund. At that time, Carlson was speaking non-stop on the stage. On the wall behind him was a huge "Flare Company" logo: the crimson surface of the sun was shining with bright white flames, which seemed to symbolize the "Flare Company"'s ever-changing situation in the unpredictable investment market. Gavin quietly walked to the front row of the crowd and looked at Carlson carefully. The founder of "Flare Fund" is known as "the stock market investor with the highest winning rate in the past decade." He is nearly fifty years old. He wears a straight black dress, has a well-maintained figure, is handsome, and has intelligent and penetrating eyes.

Many people here are going to die. She ran with all her strength along the creek that snaked through the center of the canyon, her lungs and trachea burning with pain from the continued rapid breathing. The backpack containing the luggage had been abandoned in the earlier panic, and the hiking boot on her right foot was also missing. The sharp gravel by the stream cut her socks and scratched the soles of her feet with blood. The thorns at the bottom of the valley left red and swollen scars on her exposed face and arms. The pain continued to surge with every movement she made, impacting the bottom line of her reason and endurance like a surging tide hitting a dam, but none of this made her stop running. --Because Death is right behind you!

In the deep cold night, you curl up in bed, not wanting to do anything. Unless the nervous and urgent phone ring wakes you up. I don't like to take any work calls at night, especially in the spring when Beijing is warm but still cold. The fog is so thick, it is still unknown how much harm PM2.5 Will cause to people. My sister, who is a doctor, once told me that her research showed that every six or seven years, the content of PM2.5 Will reach a peak, and the next six or seven years will be the peak time for the incidence of lung cancer in the city. This kind of weather, neither emotionally nor rationally, could make me leave the bed and leave the house. However, the phone stubbornly rang again. I glanced at the number and felt a vague sense of déjà vu. To answer or not to answer? I looked at the calendar with tarot cards next to my bed.

The dew was heavy. Liu Yi buried his face in his knees all night, and his hair was still wet. She had no sleeping bag or tent, so she came completely unprepared. She woke several times during the night, feeling intensely sleepy and remorseful. I could have been lying comfortably on the dormitory bed, but now I was having nightmares in the wilderness, and the long night was cut into pieces by the tangled threads of dreams. The piercing sound of trumpets forcibly invaded the dream, and the convener was urging people to assemble. Liu Yi didn't want to open his eyes. It was funny to say that she had been carrying it all night but not taking part in the operation, but she just wanted to stay in a daze like this until noon. The urging from the loudspeaker became more and more anxious, with a hint of reproach in his tone. Liu Yi could no longer sleep, and Xu Yue next to her was also pushing her. They were far away from the center. Others had already gotten up, many of them women.