#1114 Reality (4)
He needed at least a little time a day to deceive himself that she was still there.
Otherwise he wouldn't be able to live.
The heavy and excessive thoughts overwhelmed him.
His personality doesn't allow him to have thoughts of dying. He is a messy person, he must be strong, and he will never be useless.
You can't die in a fool's errand.
If he committed suicide directly, he would look down on himself.
I have never worked so hard before.
Fu Beizhe's eyes were so indifferent that there was no trace of anger, and he said, "Get out."
The couple immediately got up and went out.
The remaining woman, seeing Fu Beizhe holding a gun, also stood up tremblingly, and then staggered towards the door.
Just got to the door.
A bullet hit her feet.
The woman was frightened and screamed, and immediately ran out, rolling and crawling. It is estimated that she would not dare to covet Fu Beizhe in the future.
Look at the back that looks like Bai Weiwei.
Fu Beizhe's eyes were terribly cold, and he couldn't help but shoot at the back.
His Weiwei would not be so timid.
She was the woman who risked his bullet to enter the door to be his wife.
Fu Beizhe drove everyone away, and he stood there for a while before sitting down slowly.
It was terribly empty all around.
Those gorgeous furnishings, and the tables and chairs are no different from four years ago.
He has not changed the decorations.
Even Bai Weiwei's box, wardrobe, and jewelry box are still in the house.
The house is obviously hers, but as time goes by.
Her breath finally faded, far away.
Fu Beizhe took out his cigarette and smoked it quietly.
In the hustle and bustle, he seemed to see Bai Weiwei coming down the stairs.
Wearing the moon-white cheongsam he chose, his calves were extremely beautiful, and he gracefully descended the stairs step by step swaying gracefully.
Her face is as delicate as a magnolia flower by the windowsill, and when she smiles, there are beautiful stars in her eyes.
He stared blankly, the pain of the past few years melted in her eyes.
Fu Beizhe didn't even dare to speak out, and the rational part of his mind was abandoned.
At this moment, he couldn't bear to disturb himself, and he couldn't bear to break these unrealistic fantasies.
She walked down the stairs, the footsteps were slow but far away.
Fu Beizhe watched her slowly disappear into the air.
She didn't even make a sound, just a phantom that remained in this house.
It's more like he made it out of obscenity.
Fu Beizhe took a puff of cigarette, and there was a sudden stabbing pain in his chest and lungs, and the sharp pain made him cough piercingly.
He has always been pragmatic.
I never thought that one day I would love fantasy so much.
Others say that Fu Shaoshuai likes to be different.
Everyone else hired a troupe to sing at home, but he hired a ventriloquist to imitate his dead wife at home.
He doesn't care about the gossip.
But as time went on, even ventriloquist couldn't keep him safe.
When he was fighting, he was relatively simple, living and dying, and his survival instinct made him suppress his thoughts.
But the war was over, and he had no room to escape.
Fu Beizhe endured his cough and smoked a cigarette, suddenly feeling that something was wrong.
He touched his face, and there were tears.
Fu Beizhe twitched the corners of his mouth, "Useless, trash."
He cursed himself. Crying is a fart.
She's not here, who cares.
Fu Beizhe saw that the window was open and the snow was falling.
The weather was very cold, he wiped away his tears as if nothing had happened, and went to close the window.
After all, if you don't close the window when it's cold, the temperature in the room will drop, drop... She will get sick.