Chapter 2 also preface

A small, dark, damp, poisonous and insect-ridden sky prison.Old people who are thin and small, dirty and smelly, with crippled legs, and coughing constantly.Although the sunshine in September is bright but gentle, she gently slanted in from the transom of the dungeon, casting the shadow of the coughing old man on the ground.The old man propped up his body with his hands, dragged his feet, and crawled around in circles on the ground.It was the only sport and entertainment he could do.Dragging his unconscious legs, rubbing and grinding on the rough rocks.Seeing the skin and flesh on his legs burst open and the blood rushing freely, the old man's brow revealed a kind of pleasure, a kind of cruel pleasure.

——Physical pain is sometimes a kind of vent.A self-abusing outlet.A fallen leaf in the air struggled and fluttered among the autumn phoenix, as if it was looking for its own home. ——Falling leaves know how to return to their roots, prodigal sons floating in foreign lands, have you found your home? The fallen leaves passed through the sun, drifted in through the transom, and fell feebly in front of the old man.It seemed that it also knew that the old man's life was coming to an end, so he came to be with him. Fallen leaves are already known as autumn, does the old man know that today is his last day in this prison for seven years?The old man stared at the fallen leaves, which were withered and yellow.The old man's haggard, aging, and tired face suddenly showed a pious and sad expression, and said lightly: "There is nothing more real than death in the sky and on the earth."

The old man sighed, gently lifted the fallen leaves, and put them into his arms lightly, as light as a lover's embrace. There was a sound of footsteps in the silent corridor. The old man was silent. The footsteps approached and stopped.The sound of unlocking the lock echoed clearly and loudly in the prison. The fallen leaves are flying, and the "autumn decision" has arrived. There is no fear on the old man's face, and there is only a trace of helplessness on his face. The officer who unlocked the lock led the way along the corridor, and the jailer supported the old man with disabled legs on the left and right, and followed step by step.

The promenade is desolate and solemn, and the chains on the coughing old man's feet are rubbing against the stone slabs from time to time. That sound is like the scream of a mouse before it dies, it sounds so frightening. When the group of them walked to the middle of the corridor, the leading officer suddenly turned around and squatted down. At some point in his hands, there were two long and thin needles. He quickly and accurately inserted the needle into the Yuquan acupoint on the old man's crippled calf. Before the two guards holding the old man could figure out what was going on, they were knocked down by the guards with needles.

The crippled old man actually stuck two sharp needles and stood still. A stream of black blood gushed out from the Yuquan acupoint, and dripped down the stone plate along the needle. The officer holding the needle looked at the old man quietly. The coughing old man Cangzi's face gradually became rosy, and his waist gradually straightened. He raised his arms suddenly, and then he heard a series of sounds like firecrackers resounding from the old man's body. But the old man who was tired and coughing seemed to have disappeared, and the person standing there was a person with a cold, half-smile expression on his face.

The needle-wielding officer suddenly pulled out a knife, a knife as thin as paper, and a thin knife with light blue light, and handed it to the old man respectfully. The pale blue knife light reflected on the old man's face. At the moment when he held the knife, the old man returned to his former appearance of the hereditary first-class Hou Di Xiaohou Di Qinglin who regarded fame and wealth as dust, but regarded famous horses and beauties as life. The faint light of the knife is as faint as the crescent moon hanging high in the night sky. The knife didn't move, neither did Di Qinglin.

Except for his eyes, he seemed to have turned into a stone statue at the moment he held the knife. His essence, his spirit, his Qi, his strength, his spirit, and his soul seemed to have been completely put into the thin knife he was holding at this moment. Di Qinglin stared at the thin knife, and he spoke after a long time, but what he said was something completely unrelated to this knife. "You must have not had a good meal for a long, long time, because you look hungry." Waiting for the needle officer to understand why he suddenly said this sentence. "He made by famous masters! The utensils are just like people." Di Qinglin's eyes were as bright as blades. "Not only has appearance, but also color. If you don't drink human blood for a long time, you will look hungry." Di Qinglin's eyes moved from the knife to a distant place, and a hint of hatred suddenly flashed in his eyes.

"Yang Zheng, have you lived happily in the past seven years?"