[Comprehensive Yingmei] I am not I do not have

Muke used Abigail's hair to find Jacob Hobbs and Alice, and threw them to the newly appointed God of Death in Baltimore.

Jacob undoubtedly belonged to the flames of hell, and when he tried to escape, he was bound by Mu Ke's spiritual power, and Li Hun was burned and bruised all over his body. He could no longer become a demon, and there was only endless pain waiting for him.And the girl who was murdered by him and then bound by him will belong to heaven.

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Wednesday night, 06:30.

Mu Ke knocked on the door of his neighbor Hannibal's house on time.He was wearing a dark blue formal suit that was not too serious, and he hadn't forgotten the social etiquette that Yan Qing had learned back then when he held his head down.

Hannibal opened the door and invited Muke in. He was only wearing a shirt and vest with his sleeves rolled up halfway. He probably just came out of the kitchen, but even when he was cooking, Hannibal's dark golden hair was combed meticulously, and his full Windsor knot No wrinkles.

Hannibal invited him to sit in the dining room for a while and poured a glass of champagne as an aperitif.

After Muke finished drinking the cold champagne with a little sweetness, Hannibal served the appetizer as if he had calculated the time.

"It's been a long time, grilled sea bream with lobster, served with pomegranate and figs." Hannibal said as he poured half a glass of St. Ostep wine into another glass in front of them.

"Did I come too early?"

Hannibal turned his head slightly and smiled, "I learned cooking in Paris and Florence. According to their habits, you can come back after watching today's evening news at home."

"Hmm." Mu Ke responded in a low voice, cut off a small piece of grilled sea bream and put it in his mouth, the smooth and smooth sea bream melted in his mouth, leaving an aroma that filled his entire mouth.

"But this is America." Hannibal continued, "Mr. Mu, your accent doesn't sound like an American dialect."

"I spent time in Europe. Although English was the first foreign language I learned, I also made stops in France and Germany, and later spent time on a ship sailing back and forth across the Atlantic."

"So that's why you told me you prefer seafood?"

"I don't have an unusual interest in food, but I do have a penchant for seafood, especially when a master chef cooks it."

Hannibal regretted that he could not use human flesh as the first meal to entertain his 'colleagues'.

The dishes on the table were replaced with thick, creamy clam soup with minced parsley.

While waiting, Mu Ke glanced at the oil paintings hanging on the wall of Hannibal's dining room.

"Doctor Lecter, do you like Botticelli?"

Hannibal turned around and took a look, and Muke behind him looked at the painting, "Yes, this is my copy, it sometimes reminds me of Florence."

"You know Botticelli?" Hannibal's tone was slightly joyful.

Mu Ke pondered for a while, "An old friend of mine likes his paintings, and I know something about him, but if we must talk about paintings, I like Clifford Steele's paintings."

He didn't use appreciation, just a simple and straightforward liking.Hannibal was a little surprised by this.

"A small number of colors is enough to express emotions." Mu Ke said, "It's like a dish, and you shouldn't add too complicated flavors to it."

"I think we agree on these things." Hannibal smiled, switched to another glass, poured Chardonnay, and began to introduce the main course "Saffron rice with sea bass sauce, it's savory , but there is enough aroma of sea bass. Mr. Mu is of Chinese descent, I think you will like the texture of rice."

Mu Ke took a spoonful and put it into his mouth. After chewing carefully, he suddenly understood the delicacies and wines that he heard the souls of princes, generals, and ghosts on the [-]th floor of hell count down in detail.He could have been unmoved then, but it seems a little different now.

"It's delicious. There is no such food in heaven or hell." Mu Ke praised from the bottom of his heart.

"Do demons and angels need to eat too?" Hannibal joked.

"If they want to." Mu Ke replied truthfully.

"If they want to!" Hannibal raised his eyebrows, his purple eyes looked at Muke with a strange light, "God made the roof of a church in Texas last Wednesday night It fell, and there were 34 worshipers in the church singing hymns. Did he want it? We long for mercy, but God loves to kill, like human beings made in his image."

"Do you think this is what God wants? And will He be happy about it?" Muke asked back.

"He felt power."

"That's the problem. The storm killed 34 singing people. It doesn't matter. What matters is that mercy is not meant to be possessed by God."

Hannibal temporarily stopped what he was doing, waiting for Muke to continue.This passage reminded him of Muke’s work he had seen before. It was rich and exquisite. Hannibal’s instinct as a killer told him that there was a grander structure behind this work, and he only saw it for the time being. a part of.

It's just that Mu Ke's usual style of work is different from the intuitive feeling of that work, which made Hannibal have a more pleasant guess that Mu Ke has a mentor.Although this also makes him somewhat regretful.

"He has mercy, so he should give it to everyone, or just himself. But like you said, humans are modeled after him, and he also has similar characteristics to humans, the most important of which is Emotions. He can’t be truly fair because of this bondage. If he can’t do it, then he won’t do it. He should only put his kindness on himself, which means that God should not be kind.”

"You don't believe in God."

"I believe he exists, but his existence has nothing to do with me." Mu Ke said.

"That's an interesting theory for monotheism," Hannibal said. "Don't know, you like that kind of dessert, so I baked an apple pie with frozen cream chocolate chips, or lemon juice."

"Apple pie?" This dessert has a wonderful connection with the topic just now, Muke said, "I want to try creamy chocolate shavings."

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"is it him?"

"You have seen it yourself."

The shadow of the man was reflected alone on the mottled brick wall in the alley, his hand was in the bulging bag, as if he was holding something.

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"It just looks like an ordinary gang fight. You don't need me, Jack. I don't even understand why they are submitting this case to BSU." Will stood outside the cordon, looking at the bloodstained and forensic evidence in the alley. The staff of the department are busy.

Crawford raised the cordon to shoulder height, bowed slightly, and was about to turn over, Will's resistance made him a little upset.

"Seven bodies in two months, no guns, just knives and clubs. Not obvious but still dangerous, Will, I'm your boss now."

Will curled his lips, "Serial killer... If these seven cases are all written by him, I don't see too many special methods of committing crimes. They usually choose to commit crimes within their own species, especially in the When most of the victims are male." Will still stood outside the cordon, "This is an Asian male, the height..." He glanced at the half footprint left in the alley, "The forensic doctor will calculate , no signs of sexual assault, no abusive tendencies, antisocial and vengeful, but not a psychopath."

"What's the matter with you, Will?" Crawford stepped back from the cordon with a serious tone.

"Me?" Will pursed his lips and shifted his eyes, "The murderer is not crazy, but I am fast."

Will still remembers Abigail asking himself, "Am I crazy too? Like I inherited it from my dad."

Will replies "No, you don't, that's not something you inherited from him."

He was comforting Abigail lamely, but he never stopped being terrified of himself, and Freddie Lautz's sharp and merciless words on her crime revealing website made him crazy. Will snorts on the one hand, but also feels fear on the other.

His ability to empathize allows him to get so caught up in the mind of the perpetrator, so real that he wonders if his consciousness has gone mad.

Are only madmen able to think from the perspective of madmen?

"Will?" A voice jolted him out of his ball-of-wool thoughts.

Crawford turned around before him, and Will's retort made him ask in a bad tone, "Who are you? Stay away from the crime scene."

"This is Muke, my...my friend." Will pressed Crawford's arm, "Muke, this is Jack Crawford, my boss."

Muke didn't refute the word friend, but nodded to Crawford again.

Crawford glanced at him, turned around and walked into the crime scene, not forgetting to tell Will that it was working time.

"Why are you here?" Will asked.

Mu Ke shook the envelope in his hand, "Come to the post office to deal with some things."

He received a ticket from Yan Qing for a performance of "Julio Caesar" at a theater in Baltimore. This was the first message from Yan Qing in nearly 60 years, but there was no sender's address on the envelope.With a glimmer of hope, he went to the post office to check, but there was no result.Of course not, if Yan Qing is willing to meet Mu Ke, he will personally come and give this ticket.

"What about you?" Mu Ke looked towards the alley behind Will, "A new case."

"Cases keep coming and I can't stop them."

"How's Abigail?"

"She is now in the Baltimore Haven Mental Sanatorium, and she still needs to rest." Will paused before deciding to continue, "She asked me about you. She saw you the day she woke up."

"What did you tell her?"

"Say I know. I don't know much about you, Muke."

"There's still a lot of time." Mu Ke smiled, "I don't know you either."

"I'm not an interesting person." Will turned his face away. "Abigail told me she wanted to see you."

"When you have time, we can go together."

"Um……"

"Will." Crawford called Will's name.

"I won't delay your work."

Will nodded, but stared at Muke for another two seconds before entering the scene of the crime. Jack asked him to identify the wounds on the body.

The author has something to say: this is just a small case, used for transition, and will not be written in detail