desensitization therapy

Friday, rainy day.The sewage under the bridge hole of the water tank factory that has not been cleaned up in time surrounds a small circle of muddy roads. The old residential area has been rectified endlessly, and the road surface is muddy when it rains. If you are not careful, you will inevitably stumble.

The ground across the road was bulldozed, and the original mahjong club temporarily set up a table and moved it to the outbuilding of the billiard hall, so that such a table can be assembled in one day, playing from morning to night without changing players.

The billiard table was filled with smoke, Qi Zhuo exhaled a puff of smoke ring, and lifted the cue up: "So we won't play anymore?"

"Stop playing." Song Feijue leaned on the table and skillfully dusted the cue.

"Why do you smoke if you don't hit?" Qi Zhuo laughed openly at him, holding a cigarette between his fingers, leaning over to find the right angle.

Song Feijue didn't answer, and waited until Qi Zhuo hit the hole with one shot, and then slowly reminded: "The ashes fell on the tablecloth."

"Damn it," Qi Zhuo threw down the cue and wiped it with his elbow in a hurry, "you didn't say it earlier!"

Song Feijue popped a mint candy and put it in his mouth. The mint candy is ring-shaped, the kind that people at the front desk of small restaurants can grab a handful of, cheap cold and slightly sweet.He watched Qi Zhuo wiping the tablecloth leisurely for a few seconds, turned around and walked out without saying hello.

Outside the house, Old Zhao was sitting facing the door playing mahjong. When he saw Song Feijue coming out, he greeted Song Feijue with a smile and left.

Someone at the side immediately filled his position, and the person closest to Lao Zhao reviled his brand, but that person didn't show any displeasure, and kept smiling.

Amidst the clamor of "If you don't fight, you will suffer", Lao Zhao followed Song Feijue out of the smoky room.

"The stock you told me about last time," Old Zhao followed his footsteps, and said mysteriously, "How many points do you think you made?"

It was still raining, but it was much smaller than before.

Song Feijue pressed the mint ring under the base of his tongue: "How much did you buy?"

Old Zhao didn't care what he answered at all, he said "not much", and made a gesture of three triumphantly.

"Let's sell it," Song Feijue wiped his wet hair back, "It's an empty position any further."

Following the movement, the black thread on his wrist dangled down.

"I sold it as soon as I saw this battle." It was a rare time for Lao Zhao to agree with Song Feijue, so he couldn't help feeling complacent.

"Hey," Lao Zhao bumped his shoulder with his shoulder, "If you have a good stock, remember to think about it more."

Song Feijue tilted his shoulders slightly, his words were unclear: "Yes."

Old Zhao was originally Wu Muwei's client, and it was because of this that Song Feijue came into contact with him.When this person first met, he looked like a demolition household who got rich overnight, but he was not. During the boom in real estate speculation, he bought houses along with him. Feet, but also know how to accept everything.

Across the small alley is the vegetable market. There are not many stalls in the rain, but the smell of the rotting vegetable leaves on the ground mixed with the rotten rain is really not good. Old Zhao pinched his nose and fell behind, finally waiting During this journey, I was relieved.

"Are you still following Old Wu? To be honest, what kind of statistics are you doing with your brain? It's a loss."

"if not."

"Do stock analysis."

After Lao Zhao finished speaking, he felt that it was wrong. He was overqualified, so he stopped quickly: "Aren't they all doing those things now, called quantitative investment? After thinking about it, I think you are fine."

"Okay." Song Feijue answered lightly.

Old Zhao just said it casually, but he didn't expect Song Feijue to agree. He raised his head in surprise, and just about to ask, he found that he had already reached the door of the corridor.

Song Feijue didn't stop for a moment, but lazily raised his arm and waved it symbolically, as a farewell.

Old Zhao watched him enter the dark building, looked up at the dilapidated environment around him, knew in his heart that Song Feijue was doing it perfunctorily, but he just shook his head and smiled, then turned and left.

The house Song Feijue rented was on the third floor, [-] a month, one room per room, except for a bunch of shortcomings such as poor decoration, old neighborhood, etc., it was still a good deal.

He took out his key and opened the door to enter the house.There is a bed as soon as you enter the door, facing the refrigerator and the induction cooker, leaving a very narrow space for people to pass through. Fortunately, it is clean, and there is not much dust even if you haven't come back for a month.

Since last year, he has often traveled between Yanjing and Linchuan, and simply rented this studio.Wen Peitang's legs and feet have been inconvenient in recent years, and people like to think about things. Song Feijue heard Aunt Yu secretly tell him more than once that Wen Peitang shed tears silently after hanging up the video with him.

Once Song Yuming died, no one was willing to help him cover up the loopholes of accepting bribes. The money and house should be collected and returned.Wen Peitang is not willing to spend money on medical treatment, Song Feijue is having a hard time in prison, and she is also having a hard time outside.

But even so, Wen Peitang still has a little naive expectation left - she still hopes that her son can freely shake off the burden of those six years and start over without suffering as before.

But the truth made her sad.

Song Feijue knew all of Wen Peitang's thoughts, the difference was that he felt an almost ironic joy in his heart.

Whether it was Song Yuming, or the dirty money and things he left behind, they had finally completely disappeared from their lives.

The refrigerator had been shutting off before, and there was nothing in it.Song Feijue closed the refrigerator and plugged in the kettle on the table. Perhaps because it hadn't been used for a long time, the place where the kettle was plugged in made a "sizzling" sound, and the indicator light turned red.

He pulled the electric row over and was about to carefully check what was wrong with the interface when there was a knock on the door.

"express delivery."

The person at the door deliberately prolonged the ending, and patiently knocked three times to stop: "Is anyone there?"

Song Feijue returned the electric discharge to the original place, the kettle was still making noise, the person at the door seemed to hear it, and suddenly fell silent.

"Leave it outside the door." Song Feijue walked to the door slowly, leaning against the wall, and said to the people outside the door.

"You need to sign for it yourself." The person outside the door said reluctantly.

Song Feijue stopped going around in circles with him, pressed down with his fingers, and opened the door.

The people outside the door didn't seem to expect it to be so easy. He pulled down the hood of the sweater, revealing a clean face, expecting Song Feijue to show some surprise.

but.

Song Feijue looked at Fang Zhilian in front of him. He was wearing a gray hooded sweater and holding a big cardboard box. He looked the same as when he was in high school.The bangs on the forehead were a little wet, probably from the rain.

Looking down, Song Feijue's gaze stopped at the collar on Fang Zhilian's neck.

It was a silver collar, like a large circle of handcuffs, reflecting soft light.A chain was fastened to the place where the collar was fastened, and a small lock hung from it.

Fang Zhilian seemed to be very cold. Indeed, today's temperature dropped a lot compared to the previous few days.He tucked his fingers into his sleeves, but turned his face up, deliberately letting Song Feijue see the collar.

"It's not that I've made up my mind and let me come to you." Fang Zhilian lifted the open box up and held it with great difficulty, "I've made up my mind."

Song Feijue didn't look at the box that got in the way, his gaze returned from the collar to Fang Zhilian's eyes: "Really."

"I have no foresight and short-sightedness, but that's the only good thing." Fang Zhilian smiled at Song Feijue, "I will never regret what I have decided."

"Except eight years ago," he said.

The fingers hiding under the sleeve shrank, as if they touched the cold air floating in the air after the rain, it was a little tingling, a little bit of resentment.

Song Feijue asked him in a very calm tone: "How do you know that eight years from now it won't be an exception."

Just like those questions and answers he had thought about countless times.

Fang Zhilian stopped smiling. He grabbed the lock on the collar with his fingers and lifted it up.

"You can lock me up," he finally rolled his eyes again, and paused every word, "so you want to sign for it?"

The corridor full of debris was deep and dark, and only his echo remained.

After two seconds of silence, Song Feijue didn't answer.

Fang Zhilian clenched his fingers, still looking at him with that stubborn, determined look.

The rain outside the window seemed to be getting heavier again, but Fang Zhilian knew that this was the only place where he wouldn't get wet.

In the next second, Song Feijue grabbed the lock hanging from the collar and pulled him into the room forcefully.

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