Tu Tuqiao said to his subordinates gently: "Don't be afraid, I don't blame you this time. As long as we have money and e-sports players, we will have the day to defeat He Boge and Wei Taiqiang. What do He Boge and Wei Taiqiang rely on?"

Miao Sanshiliu said: "They rely on more people and more money."

Tu Tuqiao said: "That's nothing. We have more money and more people. Everyone can definitely give them a blow."

Miao Sanshiliu said: "Brother Long, I will accompany you, let's go to the restaurant together!"

No bad situation seems to make him feel discouraged. He can live on the roof and endure the hunger and cold that others cannot bear. He is poor, and he only depends on himself to maintain his life. He does whatever he has, and earns some money. He has countless wealth, of course, earns money by working. One year, he has no stove in his house for a whole winter, and asserts that his best classmates know this and everyone likes him. He is very smart, although sometimes he is really simple and trustworthy. He has a very expression--large figure, thin, his face is always shaved and has black hair. Sometimes he is also a slutty strongman. One night, he is with his friends.

Why did he go to Razumixin? This question has disturbed him now, even more disturbed than he had imagined; he anxiously searched for some ominous meaning in this seemingly most common action.

"What, can I think I can solve all the problems by relying solely on Razumixin and find a way out for all difficulties here?" he asked himself in surprise.

It was a strange thing that he thought hard and rubbed his forehead. After a long period of careful consideration, somehow, it seemed that he was unintentionally, almost naturally, a very strange idea suddenly appeared in his mind.

"Well... go find Razumixin," he said suddenly and completely calmly, as if he had made a final decision, "I'm going to find Razumixin, of course...but--not now... I'm going to find him... go again the next day after that, when the matter has been done and everything is on a new track..."

He suddenly felt clear-headed.

"After that incident," he stood up from the bench suddenly and shouted, "But will that incident happen? Could it really happen?"

He left the bench and almost ran away; he wanted to turn around and go home, but suddenly he felt very disgusted with going home: it was there, in that half of the cottage, in this terrible cabinet, and it had been more than a month since he walked forward.

His nervous tremor turned into a tremor of fever; he even felt cold; the weather was so hot, but he felt cold. Due to some need in his heart, he almost unconsciously, as if he wanted to look at everything he encountered, as if he was trying to find something to distract himself, but he could hardly do this, but he kept falling into deep thought. Whenever he shuddered, raised his head and looked around, he immediately forgot what he was thinking, and even the way he had just walked. In this way, he walked all over Vasilievsky Island and came to Xiao

By the Neva River, crossed the bridge and turned toward the archipelago. At first, the shade and cool air made his tired eyes, the eyes that were used to the dust, lime, and the tall houses that squeezed each other, lost their tiredness and felt very comfortable. There was neither a stuffy feeling, nor a pungent stench, nor a tavern. But soon these fresh and pleasant feelings turned into pain and anger. Sometimes he stood in front of the villa hidden in the shade, looked into the fence, and saw from a distance that there were a few women in full dress on the balcony and terrace, and a few in the garden.

The children who were running, especially attracted his attention were the flowers; he always looked at them for the longest time. He also met some four-wheeled carriages, male and female riders; he looked at them with curious eyes, and forgot them again before they disappeared from their sight. Once he stood down and counted his own money; he found that there were about thirty gobys. "Twenty gobys gave to the police, and three gobys gave to Nastasia, which was the money she paid for the letter...--So, yesterday gave to the Marmeladov family forty-seven gobys, or fifty gobys," he thought, for some reason.

So he calculated this way, but after a while, he even forgot what he was trying to take out his money from his pocket. When he passed by a restaurant like a small restaurant, he remembered the money and felt that he wanted to eat something. He walked into the restaurant, drank a glass of vodka, and ate a pie with unknown filling. On the way, he finished the pie. He hadn't drunk vodka for a long time, and although he had only drank one, the alcohol rushed up immediately. His legs suddenly became heavy, and he felt strongly that he wanted to sleep. He walked on the way home; but he had already walked to that place

Raskolnikov had a terrible dream. He dreamed of his childhood, but in their small town. He was only six or seven years old. On a festive evening, he walked outside the city with his father. The sky was gloomy and a stuffy day, and the place was exactly the same as the ones he remembered: the impression in his memory was even much blurry than the scene he saw in his dreams now. The small town seemed to be in his palm, surrounded by very empty, without even a willow tree; in the distance, the sky was dark, and there was a small wood. A few steps away from the last vegetable garden next to the city, there was a tavern, which was a big tavern. Whenever he and his father walked out of the city for a walk and passed by this tavern, it always made him feel extremely unpleasant and even scared. There was always a large group there.

People shouted, laughed, yelled loudly, sang hoarsely, couldn't sing, and often fought; there were drunks and terrible people wandering around the tavern... As soon as they met them, he snuggled tightly on his father, trembling all over. There was a road next to the tavern, a rural dirt road, which was always dusty, and the dust on the road was always so dark. The dirt road was winding, three hundred steps away, and hit the cemetery on the right by the city. There was a green dome stone church in the middle of the cemetery. Once or twice a year, he wanted to go to the church with his parents for a mass, and he had never seen his grandmother who had passed away for a long time. When they went to the mass, they always brought a plate of honey rice, which was served on a white plate, and wrapped in a napkin. The honey rice was as sweet as sugar, and was made of rice,

(End of this chapter)
Chapter completed!