When the scholar decided to kill the boss in his gang, he did not hesitate in his heart, nor did he deliberately think about it. It should be said that when a person sleeps, walks, eats, and shits every day, he is thinking about something, planning something, waiting for the opportunity for this matter, and has been a little ignorant for a long time, a little crazy and even approaching the devil, and giving everything is not necessary. Everything in the world is a little irrelevant to this person.

Thinking too much is like not thinking about it anymore, not afraid of death, and there is nothing to worry about.

So the scholar did it very simply!

With clean and neat methods, you can kill you with one blow!

A scholar is just a nickname and a title. In fact, "scholar" is just a thief who doesn't know his name.

The location was very good that day. A gas station that was about to be completed, and there were no valuable supplies or left-behind workers. The environment was very suitable for couples to have a tryst, to be on their backs or do something extremely personal, such as killing.

The switchblade that had been with the scholar for many years simply slashed across the boss's neck, and blood came out from the neck like a fountain, like juice radiating from the skin of a tree, and it couldn't be covered. The scholar admired this feeling and masturbated, so he faced it calmly.

The boss seemed to be coughing dryly, cursing, asking something, and then trying to catch the scholar, but in the end he was bent on the ground like a hoarse and weak beast, rolling like a crooked and broken foot until he fell into a pit half a meter deep.

The sky seemed a little haze, and occasionally there was some wind. The scholar used his index finger to pass through his nose, and his nostrils gently sucked the slightly warm breath of early summer night. He looked up at the night with few stars, slowly jumped out of the pit, squatted down, looked down at the boss who made a "drink...drink..." sound from his mouth with wide eyes, and then kicked him hard in the chest!

Confirm that this person was already struggling and no threat to him, the scholar pointed the switchblade in his hand at the boss's blood-stained face. He was very careful and regular, cutting from right to left, from right to left, from right to left...

Eleven holes were drawn horizontally, but unfortunately, these lines were not exactly parallel lines. Moreover, the boss's eyes were cut out, which was extremely ugly. The scholar was a little dissatisfied with the impression of his work, so he continued his unfinished project from top to bottom, from left to right.

In the end, the blood was filled with fields and the figures of the word "大学" was presented to the scholar. The boss, who was beyond recognition, had no sign of living. The scholar felt that the boss wanted to ask why, but he finally stopped and disappeared. Maybe he had already realized that there was no need to ask why. It was useless to ask why. It was born to death, and the night to day. Why do you still ask why?

Everything is possible in life.

Next, the scholar put some gasoline from the concrete mixer truck parked next to him, poured it on the boss's extremely dazzling face, and then lit it.

The flames were very high, and the sand and stones were mixed with cement. After mixing the water, the scholar squinted his eyes, pried open the concrete mixer truck with a switchblade, sat in the cab, and accurately poured the evenly mixed things into the burning pit of the eldest brother, refusing the possibility that the eldest brother would continue to shine and heat until the filling was completed, and there was no trace of clues on the flat ground.

The scholar was very calm. This kind of calmness was the kind of calmness that was ashes after the raging fire burned everything to ashes, and the kind of calmness that the walking corpse had no desires or requests.

So after he finished the shooting, he thought he should have done it, and he didn't feel very happy or boring. He was so calm that he seemed to be trampling a grasshopper to death, or he was just a little full and fart and then shit and urinate.

But this idea may exist for less than a minute, or half a minute.

...

Maybe the scholar had been planning to kill someone, and this person was not a specific person, but he knew that sooner or later he would kill someone around him.

Or, it's a group of people!

Kill them all, pierce their throats! Pierce the heart! Cast! Use the needle and thread to repair shoes to sew their mouths! Remove eight pieces! The woman cut off her breasts, sewed the vagina, stabbed her eyes, cut off her tendons, put blood on, poured gasoline, ignited it, and the ashes were wiped out. Then a gust of wind blew, blowing all the ashes into the stinky ditch, and then there was another heavy rain, and nothing was seen again!

The whole world became quiet.

...

Scholars always smile when talking to others, but they are almost always not serious, jokes, talk nonsense, and tease them whether they know beautiful or ugly women... but their hearts are contrary to the surface.

This deep thought in his heart is quite different from the principles of being a person he always expressed in the past. Of course, his principle of being a person is that he has no principles.

——Maybe it is simply not something that can happen to a person. No one can think of it. Of course, no one will know it, no one will know it, and of course no one will care.

Although all of their group of people are in front of each other, behind the scenes, or several sets.

Maybe others also have his own idea of ​​not knowing the true face of Lushan Mountain. Who knows, who cares? No one has ever listened to what he said, nor does anyone care about what he thought.

The scholar lived for eighteen years (maybe for eighteen years, he had no specific household registration and date of birth to check, and he felt that he would never be old) and made others feel that they either said whatever they thought, and before they thought about something clearly, they would say these thoughts early on, but maybe he was the kind of person who said these words and was about to be implemented, and then he thought that his thoughts were a bit inappropriate, so those thoughts were knocked down and started over, or these thoughts would be left alone, often with loud thunder and small rain, and different from each other.

Or, it’s always insincere. This is normal.

Those who waited for him to do something and put it into practice could only wait for nothing. After that, everyone who had sex with him knew that the scholar was definitely a "giant of language and a dwarf of action".

In other words, this guy is a fake gangster who only talks but doesn't practice, and is just a little hooligan who makes a fool of himself.

——The dog lifted the curtain, all depends on one mouth, and he was talking about it.

However, everyone in the gang seems to be like this, lies and lies, but this does not delay the work in his hands.

In fact, the scholar has been very happy all these years.

Happy, live happily.

Happy and dying, meet Marx earlier.

At least he felt that he should live a very happy life.

The scholar never knew who his biological father was, and of course he didn't know who his biological mother was. Even the aunts and aunts were gone.

The scholar is an outcast, or an orphan, a child who is abducted or trafficked by human traffickers and is separated from his biological parents.

However, since I can remember that he has been surrounded by godfathers and brothers, grandparents and sisters, there are countless godfathers. He may not have good fortune, but may have been buried in the ground as if he was old. Since he had memory, he followed these people around him to steal money by stealing money. When he got older, he had added some god sisters or kids to him... Spring and autumn come, summer solstice and winter are over, and the people around him come and go. He also changed several similar families, from this city to that city, the longitude and longitude are constantly changing, and he has long been used to it. In order to cooperate with this transformation, the scholars either look like a person who is arrogant or pretends to be deep and vicissitudes. Anyway, they have nothing to do with elegance.

Although he is quite delicate and his eyes are very bright, he has never been to school and cannot go to school. He yearns for studying on weekdays. He always likes to visit bookstores for no reason. He would come back to study with a few books from the rags. Of course, what he likes most is that when he was stealing from someone else's house, he always likes to bring back some big books. No matter whether he can understand it or not, he can't recognize the words on it, pretending to be like an old scholar who took the postgraduate entrance examination. So of course, he can learn from his own words and recognize a few. For more than ten years, his level can withstand children in the third and fourth grades of elementary school. This is the result of his unwillingness to be lonely and uneasy to work.

The relationship among scholars' "relatives" is extremely chaotic. It is often the same as today's godfather and sister sleep in the same bed at night. Tomorrow, grandpa Gan hugged the sister and started to work hard, and was very busy with the slick "sisters".

The relationship between men and women is extremely chaotic.

However, according to the scholar's long-term detailed observation, these "sisters" were happy and never suffered any pain. They seemed to be very happy. They clearly compared each other. If there were more "elders" sleeping, they seemed to have spoken much louder on weekdays, as if they had added some kind of reliance to this big family of gangs who were stealing and cheating.

The men in these teams have frequent internal conflicts, and they often have bloody heads and cut their hands and fingers, and some even disappear for no reason and never see them again.

Therefore, scholars know that only by living with low profile and technical content can one not disappear inexplicably.

He is low-key, but he has to do things in his hands.

This is a problem of interpersonal relationships and survival, so scholars should not be careless.

The blood relationships around you are too chaotic. Men and women are as casual as taking off their clothes and spitting.

When I was a little younger, every time the scholar curled up in the corner of the wall or under the bed, or at some point at the entrance of the stairs, watching these men and women fighting with interest, or the competition between many women and men create the most innate happiness that penetrates the bones. Listening to the "huffing" sounds, and those women who are happy or pretending to be happy, thinking about the other way of living, the men and women who are proud and arrogant in front of them in the daytime of another class, are they also doing physical exercises that consume the same energy in a warm room under the night sky or in the cold wilderness?

Is this the case for people?

Since the most hidden things that belong to the private sector can be performed unscrupulously under the eyes of irrelevant outsiders, what is the nobler person than other species that are in estrus and fed casually?

——He has seen men and women living in the wild, and many of them can’t remember them clearly in my memory.

So, just this is the only point that scholars knew early on that people are so fucking hypocritical! So fucking shameless!

It's so fucking different!

What the hell is that!

Dry!

Later, when the scholar was sensible, he would lie down on the street in various postures, kneeling, lying, stretching out his dirty hands that had never been washed before, staring at the people passing by with a sad look, reaching out to beg for the past. Of course, before that, he was young, and the person he was hugged quietly made him cry hysterically, and was pulled around the street by a wooden car to win love and gain benefits.

Tragedy always brings sympathy for face and makes money faster - no matter whether it is windy, rainy, thunder and lightning, or the seasons are interspersed, the snow is floating, from this city to that city, then from one street, and then to another.

Just like the song sings: "...ah! Wandering everywhere..."

The scholar didn't know what the movie was called with this wandering song. Later, someone told him that it was "The Song of Raz", but he persisted in thinking it was a song of garbage.

Isn't it? He believes that garbage can move from one place to another without being attached to others, and does not feel sorry for abandoning it. Haven't he been just a piece of garbage over the years?

——No one misses, and no one will take a look at it.

——I am just a breathless garbage.

When he grew up, he specially found this movie and watched it. But at that time, he thought that this bullshit movie was so fucking boring in the cinema. The male and female protagonists with big eyes and high noses were really nauseous. The story was as disgusting as if wiping the butt paper, and it was boring. It was better to touch the huge Ru room of a "sister" who was walking with him. Although the sister had big breasts, she really had no elasticity, as if she had no drooping flour. There was nothing to praise.

He has a feeling of depression and anger that has been deeply deceived since ancient times!

——So he cursed loudly in the theater, spitting and whistling everywhere without restraint, and almost started fighting with a young man in the front row. Of course, he didn't fight in the end. He always thought he was an intellectual rather than a violent one.

Only elegant is in line with his image, so he calls himself a "scholar". This is the name he gave to himself by whom he has no origin. It is always better than others calling him "magang" and "baby".

When the movie ended, he took the young man's wallet over, and then watched the young man walking away from a distance with his girlfriend twisted his butt, and then cursed in his heart: "Fuck it quickly! Pretend to be pure **!"

He didn't know who he was scolding, that young man, or Raz in the movie, or this kind of self.

The scholar has a long-term mental fatigue.

However, I don’t know who said: the ignorant is fearless.

"Haha! I'm not hungry for one person, so I'm happy and carefree."

"Trunk is garbage. Besides, how can anyone do it just by wanting to do garbage these days?"

Regardless of the amount of money you beg for every day, there are more than tens of millions of people you meet. Some of them are pitiful, some are contemptuous, spitting, indifferent, and some are even those who want to follow him (or her) and adopt him.

Of course, the scholar himself also wanted to live a life that was very different from his current life, which was close to normal people. For example, acting coquettishly in his parents' arms, listening to classes and going to school in a bright classroom, shopping in the streets, watching movies, etc., and then after drinking and eating, he took out a handful of money in his pocket and gave it to a beggar boy on the side of the road who was like himself now - regardless of whether the gratitude in others' eyes was pretending to be like himself...

However, all this can only be thought about.

He was once approached an opportunity to part ways from his current life infinitely, but in the end it turned into vain, in return for more severe surveillance and more fierce beatings by the "parents" in the gang again and again.

If you run away, you will be caught!

Dreams are easily shattered! But reality is cruel!

So he had to settle down like this. When he was in his teens, he knew that it was difficult for him to integrate into the relatively normal world around him that was within reach but out of reach.

Dreams are dreams, they are really far from reality. Although you mistakenly think they are very close, you will always be clear about knowing that you are wrong, just when your dreams are broken.

When the scholar thought he was thirteen years old (because he didn't know his birthday, and he didn't even know which year he was born), it was natural that he had a man's first nocturnal dream. In fact, before that, he was no longer a man. His first contribution was to a "god sister" with an extremely thin figure. Although there were still a few people watching the battle aside when they had nothing to do, they bet on how long he could last under the pressure of his gossip.

Speaking of this "doing", that sister is used to "doing" his sister.

Dry!

——Damn it! Yours!
To be continued...