Also at the winery today 996

"come over."

The man was wearing his usual suit. He looked at the boy standing nearby eating chocolate, and his tone was a bit cold.

The young boy Jian Chuanxie was startled, hurriedly put down the chocolate in his hand, and walked to the man's side with his head lowered.

At that time, Ma Chuanxie was only 11 years old.

The man held the young man in his arms and handed the tablet in his hand to the young man. There were several English names on it.

"What is this?" Ma Chuanxie looked at the tablet that the man handed to his hand with some confusion.

There was a smile in the man's eyes, and he pointed at one of the names, "Shall we play a game?"

"it is good……"

He dared not refuse his father. When he was in the first grade of elementary school, because he went out with his classmates without telling his father or others in advance, his father locked him up for two days when he came home. He was not allowed to go out, and he was not even allowed to eat.

He remembered what his father said at the time, "My son, you are fine. If something like this happens again in the future, you don't have to come back."

The man smiled, and his long and gentle face had a look that Chuanxie couldn't understand.

He pulled out a small revolver from his waist and said, "I'll tell you a name and you kill him, okay?"

Jian Chuanxie felt a trace of malice from his father.

"Of course, I hope you can clean up the scene," the man took the tablet back, "Can you do it, my child?"

"I, I don't want..."

Jian Chuanxie's small palms tried to push the man away.

"I said something."

"I know..." Ma Chuanxie shuddered and took the gun from the man's hand.

He couldn't imagine the consequences of rejecting a man - something he had been lucky enough to experience firsthand.

"Of course, there are rewards and penalties. If you win this game, I can grant you a request. Of course, if you lose, I believe you will like Siberia very much. Am I right, my Lucifer?"

The man touched the boy's head lovingly, lowered his head and whispered in Jian Chuanxie's ear.

"I understand."

"I'll tell you all the staffing, so hold on to your phone, my dear boy."

The man seemed to have known that Ma Chuanshe would answer him this way. After sending a few messages on the tablet, he got up and returned to the study.

Jian Chuanxie stood alone in front of the sofa, hesitated for a long time, pursed his lips tightly, and then shuffled back to his bedroom after a long while.

The man was sitting in the study, and the orange lamp shone in front of him, but his face couldn't be illuminated clearly.

Siberia.

It was indeed something his father would do.

This is not the first time that Ma Chuanxie has killed someone - but he doesn't even feel the psychological burden of killing someone the first time, let alone the second or third time...

After searching the Internet for the identities of those names, Ma Chuanxie lifted the quilt and climbed into bed, hugging the photo frame on the bedside and had a good sleep.

In the photo frame is an old yellowed black and white photo.

It was taken when his father and his mother were young - he had a mother. Although he hasn't even met his mother.

study.

"When cleaning the scene, don't clean it too clean." The man ordered.

"Yes."

"Don't make it too obvious. No need to remind him."

The man put down the tablet and narrowed his eyes slightly. My Lucifer, how are you going to handle the scene?

Ma Chuanxie probably would never have thought that his father was the driving force behind his being thrown to Siberia.

Of course, what came out of Hughes's mouth was not at all difficult to guess.

----

I really don’t want to write Hughes as bt’s woo woo woo woo.

The main reason is that I read this novel today, and I fell in love with it without realizing it. Also, the main reason is that the image of Hughes is really suitable (random thoughts).

What appears to be a gentle person is actually a crazy critic or something...

It makes me want to write a book specifically for Hughes.

I feel like if it was Hughes, he must be some kind of brainwashing orator (omitting the 10,000-word rant)

If you have any favorite jokes, you can really bring them up.

I can write, really. Two thousand handwritten updates per day is not a dream. I’m still thinking about a book about the apocalypse, and I’ll talk about it when I have time.

Of course, even if I open a new pit, I probably won’t be able to write fan fiction.

(Scroll away silently)