Mr. Landlord [Comprehensive Yingmei]

Hotch had a dream, maybe it was the legacy left by the ghost, and the young man's short life was glimpsed in fragmented and scattered memories.

The lovelorn was not so painful at the beginning. The young people's love was unforgettable when it burned, but when it was extinguished, it passed away like the wind without a trace. What really broke him was his loneliness and helplessness. It seemed that no one could understand him. The sadness of losing love, no one is willing to stop and wait for him, and listen to him say a few more words about the pain in his heart.

Whether it's parents, brother or friends, they all put him behind, ignoring all his desires to talk.

Isn't it lovelorn? I also experienced it when I was young. Be careful, there will always be good girls.

My brother is so powerful, why can't he find a girlfriend, and if he still likes him, he will try his best to get him back.

It's not your fault, everyone knows what that woman is doing, so just treat it as blind, have a drink with you at night, and get a good night's sleep.

As they said so, those people who brought him infinite happiness and warmth in the past seemed to have changed into extremely hateful and indifferent faces overnight. They didn't know what he wanted at all, they were all moving forward, and he was left behind I was left in the pain and couldn't extricate myself.

He seems to be a stupid loser, like a clown who is laughed at by everyone. He can't face those friends, and he doesn't want to face his former lover, so he cowardly locks himself in the room.

He knew that something was wrong with him, maybe it was a psychological problem, but when his father contacted a psychiatrist for him, even though he knew that his father was doing it for his own good and that this was the right thing to do, he still couldn't help it. He acted in a controlled manner and hurled insults at his family members.

He became obsessed with the Internet, and one day he came across a forum with few people, and he did not need to register to post anonymously, which satisfied his desire to talk. He opened a post to write about his experiences and psychological journey bit by bit. Going up, maybe he is really eager for approval, but most of them are perfunctory to watch the excitement, only one person replied to his post seriously, and the unknown person replied in detail, and it can be seen between the lines that the person read very carefully As a matter of course, he replied to that person very seriously, and after a few visits, he introduced him as a confidant.

And then……

There is no more, the more he talks to that person, the more desperate he is in the real world, and many ideas that he would never agree with have gradually become lingering iron laws in his mind. Every day when he wakes up, the messy room, Open the door to the empty home, no one will care about him, no one will pay attention to him.

Hotch can deeply feel the despair, the suffocating despair of drowning. In the scattered memory, the scars on the young man's body are getting more and more, and the light in his eyes is getting less and less, until one day, he hangs Bai Ling on the On the tree, he ended his life in the woods that few people know.

Who gave Bai Ling to him? Hotch tried his best to find the suspicious object in his memory, but all the related memories disappeared, as if he was sent to the emergency room for cutting his wrist one second, and he was standing with Bai Ling in his hand the next second. under the tree.

I don't know where Bai Ling came from, and I don't know why I came to this step, but just looking at the white cloth strips swaying in the wind, sadness and despair can't stop pouring from the bottom of my heart.

It was too painful when he died, and I can't remember the specific memory clearly. I only remember that when he woke up from the darkness again, he was boarded on the white silk and lay in the cold evidence room. Seeing him, no one could hear him, he was drowsy, and when Hotch touched him, he seemed to be able to feel the emotion of this man strangely, it was an extremely subtle and unspeakable emotion He did not hesitate to follow that tiny connection and escape from the white silk that trapped him. It seemed that he had lost most of his strength when he left.

Weak, he followed Hotch to see his father and brother again. He saw that his father, who was in full bloom in his memory, seemed to be ten years older, and saw a bit of depression and depression in the eyes of his enthusiastic and cheerful brother. Then he suddenly realized How ridiculous and terrible my own impulsiveness is, those loneliness that the whole world doesn't understand me, those pains that seem to be betrayed by everyone, in the final analysis are nothing more than my own self-pity and self-pity.

Everyone loves him, worries about him, and no one gives up on him, but he is blindfolded by the darkness in his heart, led astray by the demons of hell, and looks at everything around him from a narrow and prejudiced perspective. The eyes see only darkness, not light.

So step by step towards the most tragic ending.

It was only after dying once that he realized how naive he really was. When he thought about it, those things that weighed heavily on his heart disappeared at once. He had a faint premonition that he might really go to another world, but he There is still a little wish left.

At the end of the dream, Hotch saw the young man smiling and crying, asking him to say sorry to his parents and elder brother in trembling voice.

Hotch didn't have time to answer, and woke up from the dream.

It was still dark at this time, so he jumped out of bed and took out a pen and paper to write down what he had just dreamed, believing that it was impossible, but it was possible to use it as a clue to let Garcia look in this direction.

Wu Cong was not in the room, on the other side of the bed there was only a little red snake sleeping soundly coiled on the pillow, if it wasn't for its conspicuous color, it might not be visible at all.

It must be something to go out. Hotch thought, poured a glass of water and drank a couple of sips, then went back to sleep.

In fact, Wu Cong is indeed outside, but there is nothing wrong with him. He is just bored to go out for a stroll. For a dead person like him, the night is the real time to go out. The color is just right, and there are unavoidable sprites running rampant in this city.

The geographical location of Portland is very interesting. It is just on top of a leyline, and there are a large number of special races living in it - not only the Wessons, but also many other ethnic groups that were attracted by Wesen. This gave birth to a special assembly that is difficult for ordinary humans to know.

In China, such gatherings are called "ghost markets" and have always belonged to the country's gray governance area.

When it gets dark, it prospers, and when it gets dark, it disappears. It only appears a few days before and after the full moon, trading some rare things that you can never see normally. Of course, most of them are not very legal.

The moon is the source of yin qi in the world. When the moon is about to be full, the yin qi is at its peak. For these monsters and ghosts, it is an excellent day whether it is breathing, practicing or going out to do things.

Wu Cong looked up at the sky, the cold snow and frost seemed to make the moon nearly round, with a faint red ring around the edge.

With this rare omen of the blood moon, it is inevitable that it will be lively for a few more days.

The ghost city is on the outskirts of the city, and you can see the black and rolling outlines of the houses from a distance. There is no light on, and there is no sound. It is also difficult for cats to see the faces of people around them in this darkness.

There is magic blessed by wizards here, and ordinary humans will leave automatically after a long distance. Even if someone enters here by mistake, it will probably only be regarded as a dream after a night.

Wu Cong casually pulled on a black robe and put it on, calmly blending into the crowd.

There are very few monsters in the United States, and there are only a handful of them. Just like the culture of the United States, the monsters in the United States are also a complete hodgepodge of races, especially places like ghost markets, which can be called exhibition halls of strange creatures. Whether it's customers or products, there are things on the stalls from all over the world that even Wu Cong has never seen.

Wu Cong didn't come to buy things, so he just wandered around and collected some interesting items. The old rice dumpling is not short of money or things, even if the tomb is completely stolen. He also has a lot of suspicious tombs full of treasures that are still well sealed, just opening one will be enough for him to be rich for hundreds of years.

The reason why he is so obsessed with finding the stolen things... The things he can take to bury are all his favorite treasures during his lifetime, which is not comparable to those among the suspicious tombs.

Back then, his piano could attract a hundred birds to sing.

Walking past the stalls, Wu Cong didn't show much interest. It's not the busiest time yet, and many stalls won't show up until the full moon night.

"It's really rare to meet you here." A hand was placed on his shoulder from behind, "I remember you don't like to join in this kind of fun."

Wu Cong replied: "I remember you can't join in this kind of excitement." It's really not a big deal for the person in charge of the station in the United States to come to such a gray area.

"Overseas, abroad, they can't find me." Dian Zhi said with a smile, "Where is Xiao Dansha?"

"Good children know to go to bed early." Wu Cong said, "Dansha has always been very good."

"I know, I know." Dian Yao leaned next to Wu Cong with a playful smile, and asked again, "I heard that you brought a human with you, when will you let me meet?"

Wu Cong glanced at him sideways, and said calmly, "It's not necessary."

"Don't be so stingy." Dian Jie said, "It's not Jinwu Zangjiao."

Wu Cong frowned slightly, and felt that his hand was empty, and only one robe was left when he scooped it up, and he couldn't find anyone when he looked again.

Traveling with spirit and soul, he said that he always felt that there was something wrong with his breath.Dian Zhi touched his chin, a transparent flame ignited in his palm, and the robe in his hand was instantly reduced to ashes.

"Okay, okay, I won't say anything." He shrugged, "If I happen to see you, I'll tell you some good news, do you want to listen?"

No one responded to him, and the "people" who passed by him cast vague but meaningful glances at him.

Where did the neuropathy come from.

Dian Zhi coughed twice: "I really have good news about the one you're looking for."

As soon as he finished speaking, he felt that Wu Cong had appeared in front of him again, "Where is it?" Wu Cong's tone sounded very cold, and he was completely different from his usual gentle and unhurried demeanor.

He suffocated, and said embarrassingly: "As you guessed, it is in the United States. Find a place and I will tell you slowly."

I really don't know how that offended this old rice dumpling, it has been seven or eighty years and he still hasn't given up.

Wu Cong nodded and completely dissipated his figure.

At the same time, the scorpion was gone.

It's like it's never been there.