Mr. Landlord [Comprehensive Yingmei]

Wu Cong was dreaming.

He seldom has dreams, and people who die often have few dreams, and what is reflected in dreams is the human heart.

He never thought that one day he would tie a red line with a young man, or a man from a foreign country, perhaps because Yuelao's business expanded to a foreign country, or maybe the golden arrow on the bow of the god of love in a foreign country shot in the wrong direction It hit his heart, which made him sleepy and contemplative, tossing and turning.

In the dream, he didn't do anything out of the ordinary, but he saw the life of the person sleeping beside him from the perspective of a bystander, or what he knew, plus his imaginary construction, that person's life.

He was a little surprised at how much he paid attention to this tenant. From the very beginning, the affection he put into him far exceeded the general scope of what he could give——Wu Cong was never a hospitable person. He and Dansha could be accommodated, and even he himself couldn't explain why he suddenly wanted to find a tenant to share the apartment next door, and why he became so interested in him as soon as he met him.

Even if Dansha likes it, he shouldn't be allowed to do so.

Having lived to Wu Cong's age, he can see many things very clearly. Even if he is an occasional fan of the authorities, he can realize it instantly with just a chance.

Probably from the very beginning, he had inexplicably had some unusual thoughts about that person.

Thinking of this, Wu Cong couldn't help but laugh out loud.

His entanglements and troubles these days are nothing more than mediocrity. Since he is tied with a red thread, it is the marriage of life and life. The red thread on the little finger will not be broken, no matter how many times he meets such a person, he will recognize such a person from the first sight, and then the red thread is firmly tied, making him unable to deny it.

In his dream, he watched the man get up, wash up, breakfast was a simple sandwich, he was busy with work without end, the world was dark like a tide, but it couldn't break it in half, sometimes he would forget lunch when he was busy, and sometimes he couldn't rush back to his residence until late at night.

Yes, a residence, not a home.

Wu Cong also saw himself appearing in the dream. As a kind landlord who often brought supper, sometimes he was very close, and sometimes he was very distant. They restrained a proper sense of distance between each other, no one went further, no one Taking a step back, something is brewing undercurrents, and often recedes silently before erupting.

This dream ended with a kiss, without any erotic meaning, and the kiss ended with the gift of love, not too sweet, but it made people's ears burn. When Wu Cong woke up, he even felt that he was His heart, which had stopped beating a long time ago, was beating like a drum, rushing to make him dizzy.

He thought that the kiss should be sweet, because in the dream they were eating dessert before the kiss, a small mint square cake with a little rose filament, the aroma was overwhelming.

Wu Cong unconsciously licked the corner of his lips, feeling somewhat regretful.

When he realized that in reality he was still a little white dumpling who could be picked up by Hotch, he felt more than regret. This appearance was probably useless except for being cute, Xiao Tuanzi impatiently Kicked the back leg.

In his sleep, Hotch seemed to be aware of it, and rubbed the fluffy ball under his hand. Although he had never raised any small animals, he had learned the ultimate technique of smoothing hair without a teacher, from head to tail, turning over Scratching my stomach and scratching my chin, I encountered a mild resistance halfway through, and it was easily relieved by rubbing it casually.

Within a few minutes, Fluffy, who was still restless just now, completely quieted down, allowing him to flatten, rub, and stroke.

After rubbing it a few more times to make sure Fuzzy wouldn't move anymore, Hotch rolled over and retracted his hand.

Wu Cong, who was very comfortable being shunned, squinted and squinted at his hand, and decided to talk to the underworld tomorrow.

Ballball's small tail stretched quietly, encircling Hotch's wrist.

Of course, he had to go back to Dansha the same way before dawn the next day, otherwise the little girl would wake up and see him, but it would be flooded.

When Hotch woke up, he saw the blue handkerchief that should have been wrapped around Wu Cong on the bed, and couldn't help laughing.

The first day of the weekend has arrived so unsteadily.

It was pouring rain.

With the help of Hotch, Dansha moved the flowers and plants in the house from the window sill into the house, as well as the plates with not much rice left. Wu Cong arranged many defensive spells around the house, However, there is no spell to prevent rain. Learning to sense the air of the four seasons is also an important lesson for Dansha, so Hotch saw Dansha lying on the window sill facing the outside in a daze when Hotch came out after washing his hands.

That's right, it's just being in a daze. For a little snake like Dansha who has just reshaped its body for a hundred years, the air of the four seasons is equivalent to the calculus in the eyes of a primary school student, and there is no other way except to be in a daze.

"How long is she going to be like this?" Hotch asked quietly.

"When the rain stops." Wu Cong turned the page in front of him, patted Hotch to signal him not to be distracted and return to the topic.

Wu Cong is teaching Hotch the basic method of breathing. Although Hotch has passed the optimal age of practice, he can make up for such a small gap by piling up more treasures of heaven and earth.

It just so happened that Wu Cong was short of money for everything, and all the materials he had prepared for the future when he upgraded too quickly were useless, and now they are all thrown away in his grave.

As for the patronage of tomb thieves... If they had the ability to steal the tombs erected in the cracks in the void, Wu Cong would admit it.

At that time, if Huang Pizi hadn't been behind to help him die in a hurry, how could a few grave robbers have entered his tomb.

Hotch stroked the fur that had exploded on the table, and added a few words to his notes.

Talented players like Wu Cong are actually not suitable for lecturing. The first time he breathed his body into his body, he relied on epiphany. Afterwards, his speed of advancement was comparable to taking drugs. After hundreds of years, others may not be able to complete thousands of years. The road to seeking immortality, such a fast progress is like a schoolmaster who knows what formula to use at a glance when doing a problem, but can't explain why he thought of this formula.

The same is true for Wu Cong's lectures. With the basic practice materials of the national special school, he finished his one-semester course in two hours-this is including the two hours of reaction time for Chinese to English, after all, the basic practice textbooks are really good. Hou, cultivation, even in modern times, mainly depends on enlightenment.

This teacher is not a good teacher. Fortunately, the student is still a good student. Hotch fully utilized the full-shorthand ability of the FBI Academy at that time. To tell you the truth, how old are you? Where do you need a teacher to teach you how to write like a primary school student stroke by stroke.

While Hotch was reading notes, Wu Cong ran into the study, took out a piece of talisman paper from the bottom drawer of the bookcase and burned it on the candle. It is floating all the way to the ground.

The green smoke sank into the ground, the flame on the candle danced, flickered twice suddenly, the flame soared into the sky, and a man appeared in the flame.

It's not the youthful appearance that immortals always like to transform into. He looks more mature, with cold brows and eyes, and a tired expression. The corners of his mouth have a slightly mocking arc when he doesn't smile. A pair of phoenix eyes are slightly raised. Wearing a bright pink that is close to red when the peach blossoms are at their peak, a birdcage crane cloak is worn over the pure black suit, and the gold thread at the corners changes into thousands of colors with the light.

"What's the matter?" he said, his voice low and hoarse.

"It is true that I need to ask you to accommodate me."

There was only a phantom in front of him, but Wu Cong was extremely cautious in dealing with it.

The offspring of Yinglong and Honghu, the most important right-hand man of Emperor Fengdu, even if they are abandoned sons who are not tolerated by the dragon and phoenix clans, their names are all ironic flaws, and their surname is Song, which is by no means possible. contemptuous character.

Wu Cong's request to restore his human form was not a difficult matter for Song Xia, and he had no intention of embarrassing this junior whom he was quite optimistic about, so he agreed quite readily, but correspondingly, he also proposed an exchange condition.

There is no such thing as a free lunch in the world, and Wu Cong was already mentally prepared for this.

"I want a person." Song Xia said, "He is dying, but he is in the United States."

"Can't be extradited?" Wu Cong asked.

"He can't reincarnate." Song Xia said, pondered for a while and explained, "He is... a time traveler."

A soul that came from another world, accidentally passed through the turbulence of time and space, and was reborn on a body in this world. Because it does not belong to this world, the body will decay faster than ordinary people, and it cannot enter the reincarnation of this world after death. among.

According to the newly revised regulations on the extradition of deceased persons in various countries, deceased persons of Chinese nationality who died abroad will automatically fall under the jurisdiction of the Chinese prefecture, and a special department will be responsible for the extradition back to China. The first-generation immigrants who are not Chinese nationalities will follow their own wishes. Management, the second generation and beyond are no longer under the jurisdiction of the Chinese prefecture.

However, those who are not within the jurisdiction of the Heavenly Dao, such as traversers, are particularly troublesome to arrange reincarnation. They usually push and block and let them dissipate. The person who asked someone to step over and send the other party over was simply writing the three characters of "inside the truth" on his face.

It's a pity that Wu Cong is not a person who is very curious and likes to gossip. He didn't delve into the probable love-hate relationship at all. He asked Song Xia directly and took the other party's current identity information, and agreed that he would send him to Song Xia. Xia immediately let him return to his human form - it's okay to keep any other ability restrictions and supervisor restrictions, as long as he can return to his human form.

Song Xia readily agreed, and there was only a small piece of Wu Cong's lit candle left. Before leaving, he asked, "Do you really want to consider taking over from me? Reserve the position." He is really optimistic about this young man taking over his class, he has worked hard in this position for thousands of years without even taking a vacation, and he has long since given up on it.

"I don't have much talent and learning, and I'm tired by nature. It's really hard to believe that you have such high expectations." Wu Cong smiled and rejected Song Xia's invitation. He thought he wasn't Song Xia's kind of ruthless personality who dared to risk his life, so he didn't want to do so. A dynamite seems like troublesome work.

After sending Song Xia away, Wu Cong cleaned up the wax on the floor and walked out of the study as if nothing had happened.

The rain had stopped outside, and Dansha was leaning against Hotch, explaining the basics of drawing Qi into the body.

Much simpler and easier to understand than what Wu Cong said.