Chapter 155: A Bird with a Story (Tip and Add More)

After the performance at the Red Maple Theatre, a figure walked quickly on the street. His young face was reflected in the bright lights of the nearby Gas Street.

This young man wears glasses, flaxen hair lying softly on his forehead, with a slightly bookish face, and there is still a bit of childishness that has not completely faded between his eyebrows.

The formal suit on his body looked cheap, but it was ironed with straight lines, obviously taken care of carefully.

Suddenly, the young man felt something and looked back.

Around him, behind him, there are passersby coming and going. Just then, a carriage passed by. The young man shivered suddenly, and looked at the other side of the street after the carriage passed by.

There.

Also under the streetlight, a man pressed his hands on his stomach and bowed slightly to him.

The blood on the young man's face faded immediately, and he turned into a side alley in a panic. In the alley, a stray cat was frightened, yelled and jumped onto a dusty window. With two faint eyes, it looked warily at the figure running past in front of it.

pedal! pedal! pedal!

The young man ran quickly through the alley, and seeing that the exit was approaching, suddenly, words full of filth and depravity sounded in his ears.

It was as if the devil was whispering in his ear.

The young man's movements suddenly became stiff, and his legs stopped involuntarily. Before he could figure out what happened, he suddenly felt a violent impact, and when he came back to his senses, he was knocked against the wall.

then.

The young man saw a pair of blood-red eyes, and as the attacker smiled and retreated, he saw the attacker's appearance clearly.

He looked about twenty-four or five years old, with long gray hair hanging over his shoulders and back, and a handsome face with a sickly paleness, as if he hadn't been bathed in the sun for many years. (Note 1)

Wearing a pure black formal suit, straight trousers, and polished leather shoes.

Finally, the young man saw blood on the attacker's hands.

At this moment, he felt a stabbing pain in his abdomen. When he lowered his head, he realized that there was a dagger stuck there, and it stabbed deeply into his body.

The nearby clothes were already stained red by the seeping blood.

The young man suddenly lost all his strength, slowly slid down against the wall, and asked with difficulty: "Why do you want to do this?"

The assailant with long gray hair showed a bewitching smile, leaned slightly, and made an aristocratic greeting: "Because I hate the audience, Mr. Novelist."

The young man trembled slightly: "You, are you a lawyer?"

"Yes and no."

The attacker straightened up, brushed the long hair that fell to his forehead with his hand, and brushed it back: "This city is very nice, I plan to stay here for a while, so no one can see my identity."

"However, you audience can always find something that you shouldn't be aware of. For example, at the party just now, you have already noticed that I am not actually a lawyer, right?"

He squatted down in front of the novelist, and said with a smile: "So whenever I go to a place, the first thing I send off is the 'audience' nearby, so that I can have a good time playing for a while."

The assailant took out a wallet from the novelist and shook it: "I'll take this. In this way, when your body is found by the police, it should be regarded as an ordinary robbery and murder, right?"

"I know them all too well, those guys are like curly-haired baboons, as long as they find a reasonable answer, they won't go any further, and they won't bring the case to the nasty official people."

"Of course, I will wait for your characteristics to emerge before leaving. You see, this is called professionalism."

The novelist's consciousness has begun to blur, and he even saw some fragments of his past life. In a vague way, he seemed to hear a cry from the alley.

"Mr. Foles, is that you?"

"Wait a minute, I have something to tell you."

Footsteps came from the alley, and there was more than one person. There was even the sound of birds chirping.

The attacker frowned: "Damn it, it's just this time."

He glanced at the novelist, raised his foot and kicked the dagger to make it stab deeper. Then quickly retreated into the darkness, and disappeared in a blink of an eye.

The sound of footsteps finally came nearby, and someone said 'Huh': "It's not Mr. Foles, did I miss it?"

"Sir, he appears to have been attacked."

"Quack quack."

There was a noise in the alley, someone lit a match, and the flame illuminated Sifa's face.

When the show was over just now, he caught the scent of a 'lawyer' and found a suspicious figure. He immediately followed up, but he didn't expect to encounter such a scene.

Sifa stepped forward, squatted down in front of the young man whose face was already pale, and reached out to touch his nose.

Suddenly, the young man raised his head and grabbed Sifa's hand violently.

The Sifa gang was about to jump up, and Gru had already pulled out the revolver, but saw the young man take out a coin from his pocket, put it in Sifa's hand, opened his mouth forcefully, and said two words: "Help!" I."

The sound stopped abruptly, his head tilted, his hands hang down weakly, and he is dead.

Seefa looked at the coin in his palm and found some rust on it. When he held the coin, his spirituality was slightly touched, and it seemed to be a magical item.

He suddenly remembered the coins used by novelists for divination at the party, which made Xifa couldn't help but look at the dead young man at the bottom of the wall, and a thought came to his mind.

Is he a novelist?

It was a lawyer who attacked him?

Why is the lawyer attacking the party members, no, that one is probably not the lawyer, his smell has changed.

Someone pretending to be a lawyer and going to the party? In this case, it makes sense why the lawyer can have the formula of the arsonist.

"Sir, get out of here quickly, I'll take care of it later." Gru reminded from behind, the bodyguards could already see that the novelist was dead.

Xifa nodded, glanced at the novelist's body, turned around and left with the servant.

Violet Hotel.

After returning to the room, Sifer took the parrot Gregor into the bedroom, and the latter flew into the cage and said, "It was a terrible thing that killed that little guy."

Xifa looked at it: "What did you notice?"

Gregor spread his wings: "No, I just have this feeling."

Feel?

Speaking of which, the inspiration of the 'monster' seems to be quite high, and this silly bird also felt the specialness of the bronze mirror before.

"By the way, why do you always think of yourself as a giant dragon? You don't have something wrong here, do you?" Xifa nodded his head with his fingers.

Gregor looked at him. At this moment, the parrot's eyes were filled with a deep light: "Because the dragon is the most powerful non-human species I know."

"Because I hate myself for being weak, stupid, cowardly and ignorant."

Xifa looked at the macaw in the cage in surprise, he didn't expect that a bird could say such a thing.

It seems that you are a bird with a story.

Note 1: This is the role provided by the long-term Chenjiu in Longtaolou.

PS: Thank you Jiu Xuanzun, come to hit me ha ha ha la, I don't take the nickname, the success depends on the people, the wealth and the sky, waiting for the rewards of the watchers~