Bandage fine tricks

"Ward 303...ah, it's over here." While holding the phone and looking down at the address sent to her by editor Hejian recorded in the memo, the other hand subconsciously grabbed the lower part of the hood to prevent the hood from being inadvertently Opening the room, Xiao Ba walked past the nurse's station, let go of the patient's family members, doctors and nurses who were pushing the hospital bed towards the elevator, and finally stopped in front of the ward with the 303 plate on it.

Below the house number of the ward of 303 are two Chinese characters: "Henggou".

Gently knocked on the door, Xiaoba had asked the nurse in advance to confirm that Mr. Henggou Masashi should be awake at this time, so that he would not run into the embarrassing situation like when he visited 27 last time. Soon, rumors spread in the ward A male voice came: "Please come in."

"Excuse me." Xiao Bafang said softly, opened the door and went in, not forgetting to close the door.

Amid the sound of the door lock falling automatically, the girl with black hair and different eyes raised her eyes from under the hood, and smiled at the young man sitting on the hospital bed: "Long time no see, Mr. Henggou."

The young man sitting on the hospital bed was the official history of Henggou who had met once in the hot spring hotel at that time.

Caring about why his identity would be found out, Xiao Ba got straight to the point after a simple exchange of greetings: "Why does Teacher Henggou think it's me?"

She didn't say "Why do you think I was the one who did something", as if unconsciously blurring the subject. This way of questioning does not define key words, which will make the person being asked preconceived and spontaneously fill in what they know. content, so as to extract more information—by the way, although this way of questioning seems to be taught by Mr. Dazai, and those who have been asked by her in the past also agree that it is Dazai’s pollution and Osamu Dazai thinks that this is one of the imprints left by the demon in the memory that Hachimao no longer remembers. As for the Mr. Demon who flew over from the sky with a scapegoat, he still doesn’t know this. So it's hard to say whether he would not hesitate to blame the "Katyusha that ruined him" on the black mud spirit of the Armed Detective Agency when he knew about it, but in fact, this is actually When she wrote articles in her previous life, she was used to portraying BOSS characters or high IQ characters in one of the ways of setting off and describing...

Masashi Henggou looked at the younger girl who was vigilant like a stray kitten facing the suddenly approaching human beings—in terms of the field of “writing”, he could indeed call her a “junior”—and asked: “Are you Do you mean knowing that you are the author of "Envoy of the Gods", or do you mean arranging medical resources for me?"

Xiao Ba tilted his head: "There are all of them."

"I went to ask the proprietress who lived next door to me, and she told me that she was also an author who seemed to have a headache on the deadline, so she came out to collect materials. I accidentally caught a glimpse of her register, and went back to find a friend to help me search online. After a while, I almost know who you are." Henggou Zhengshi didn't think too much, and narrated his reasoning process.

The reason why I asked a friend to help me search online is because he is not very good at using network equipment. One of the specific manifestations is that now that electronic manuscripts and printed manuscripts have become popular, Henggou’s official history is still handwritten, full of old-school authorship.

"As for the medical treatment..." He touched his abdomen, and his voice subconsciously softened a little, "I'm exactly what I wanted to ask, how did you know about my condition—I think the patients in this hospital Privacy is still worth affirming.”

Since Mr. Henggou has told the truth about how he knew she was the author of "Envoy of the Gods", Xiao Ba also said truthfully, "Guess."

Henggou Masashi was stunned for a moment.

"That hot spring homestay is a health resort. Although I personally lived there because of a little misunderstanding of the old man, most people will live there, and most of them are for recuperation, right?" Xiao Ba said, she It was Dajue on Guochang Road who habitually recommended places he thought were good when he heard her say that he wanted to change the environment—and as an old man in his 90s, most of the places that King of Gold thought were good... Linked to recuperation and the like...

Henggou Zhengshi was thoughtful: "So you guessed that I was not in good health at that time?"

"Well, but at that time, I only thought of the problems that writers often have. The cervical spine is not good, and the lumbar spine is not good, especially for people like Mr. Henggou who are used to sitting on the tatami to write, the back of the neck and even the waist. It's not normal to have a leg problem! So I didn't think much about it at the time."

Xiao Ba put the fruits for visiting patients in his hand on the bedside, then pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down, and took out a hardcover book from his handbag: "I don't think it's right because I came last time. When I was visiting a friend of mine in the hospital, I happened to see you, teacher, walking through the corridor of the building in front of the inpatient department. That building is not in the planning area of ​​the hospital. I felt something was wrong, so I went to ask the nurse what was being checked there - the answer I got made my back break out in a cold sweat."

Henggou Zhengshi's eyes fell on the hardcover book that Xiaoba took out from his handbag. It was the second part of the book he was writing. The whole story was planned in three parts, and now the second part has been released , As for the third book, which includes the final case-solving and decryption content...he is still writing, and because of his baldness, the progress bar has not passed halfway: "If it's just a tumor, it may also be a benign tumor. As long as it is surgically removed in time, it will be fine." gone."

There is no need to invite that well-known Netherland soul-hunting doctor in Academy City—that is, how can you kill a chicken with a butcher's knife.

Xiao Ba raised the book in his hand: "The answer is in this book."

"Assuming it's just a benign tumor, if it's just a benign tumor, it's fine if it's removed. Such a thing is force majeure. Even if the publishing house is no longer humane, it won't make a writer with a tumor rush to rush the manuscript. The most reasonable way should be to postpone it internally. The deadline for manuscript acceptance is to let the author recuperate for at least a period of time after the operation, so that the body can keep up with the creative requirements before continuing to write. It is announced to the public that the author is not feeling well and needs to rest for a period of time. Of course, the specific situation will not be announced, this is for publication For the sake of the company’s share price.”

"If it is revealed that the publishing house is suppressing Mr. Henggou who is seriously ill and refuses to postpone the deadline, I believe that your angry book fans will definitely come to your door and tear up the editorial department."

"But the publishing house didn't do that, and didn't even let the teacher receive treatment in the hospital, and went to a hot spring hotel to write."

"This is very strange, I can't figure it out anyway, no, no," Xiaoba said here, and then corrected himself, "It should be said that I subconsciously avoided the most possible but also the scariest answer: because I have There is no cure, so he accepted conservative treatment and passed away with his last dignity as a human being, after all, cancer patients who have used a full set of treatment methods really have no dignity to speak of."

"And in this process, try to finish the last book, so that I can give an explanation to the readers who are looking forward to the ending of this book——Ms. Henggou is so gentle, even if I am about to face the god of death, I still think so people."

Only such a gentle heart would open his mouth to help a stranger in the next room in front of the police.

"There is no evidence to prove this, and I don't want to believe it myself. Subconsciously, I read the first and second volumes of the book you are writing, teacher, and this time, I I found something wrong."

With thin white and thin fingers, he traced the title of the article along the font on the ironed cover of the hardcover book, and Xiao Ba said softly: "In this unfinished book, I experienced despair... and the madness of putting everything in one's hands."

It was a feeling different from any reading experience she had ever had.

From between the lines, she smelled "death".

Every word seems to have breath, the breath from the author himself, even though the characters and pictures described in the words are lively, serious, cheerful, sad... But the breath revealed by these words is the hope to be read. Severed despair and desperate madness.

Xiaoba, who felt this kind of breath for the first time, couldn't even tell whether it was the feeling brought to her by the storyline itself, or the breath of the inhuman world perceived by Maoyou's blood.

She didn't realize that it didn't come from the breath of the story itself until she replayed it for the third time.

"If my reasoning is correct, the murderer's motive for killing the deceased was resentment. He resented the deceased. Mr. Henggou's description between the lines also reproduced a death scene full of resentment, but..." Xiao Ba looked at his hand book, silently wondering whether to say the next thing or not.

— There is resentment in this story, but there is no resentment in these words.

At the beginning, she thought it was her reading comprehension level [-] that she understood something that the author didn't even think about—that is, the so-called "over-interpretation", but when she revisited it for the third time, she realized , Those are not derived from the text description, but from the breath of the text itself, which is the author's emotional sustenance when writing this book.

"When will an author put himself in such a desperate and desperate gamble when writing a book?"

"Only when he knows that this is his end point, and he will no longer be able to write the next book and climb to a higher point."

As long as a person can still think, it is not the end—so at that time, Xiao Ba clearly realized one point.

Time is running out for Henggou's official history.

So he gave up the doctor's advice and chose conservative treatment, in order to finish his last book properly at the last moment of his life.

It would be even better if we can climb to a higher peak of mystery novels from this.

There was a moment of silence in the ward, until Xiao Ba suddenly spoke, breaking the silence:

"I have a writer who I admire, admire, and admire. Although he is really speechless in terms of personal morality, he is a powerful spiritual teacher who can be called a human being in literature."

Henggou Zhengshi's thoughts were subconsciously drawn to him: "Oh? What kind of person is it that makes you say such things while worshiping him so much?"

"He was a gambler, and almost all of the greatest work in his life was written when he had gambled nothing and had to write to pay off his gambling debts. Even his wife said, 'If you let him gamble his life Penniless and desperate, that guy can write a great novel." Xiao Ba closed the book in his hand, closed his eyes, and said with a smile, "When I was a child, I read this story written in anecdotes about writers. After one o'clock, I even went to learn how to gamble, dreaming that if one day I could travel back to the era of that literary giant, I would definitely win him until there was no pants left!"

Henggou Official History: "...???"

What seems wrong with this development?

When ordinary people know that their favorite writers are poor, shouldn’t they think about making a lot of money to make the author’s life better and have a more stable life to write novels?

Why do you want to trap your favorite writer in an injustice instead?

"Although I was called a parent by the teacher after winning away the pocket money of all the students in the grade, after a month of mixed doubles, I realized that it was impossible for me to travel back to the era of that literary giant, so I gave up gambling. Technique—otherwise I should be the king of gambling in Asia by now, right?" Xiao Ba said regretfully.

What a waste of youth!

Henggou Masashi: "...your love is really scary."

"No way! Who told that guy to write great works only when he was extremely poor and forced to write novels? I just wanted him to have more and better works! "

Henggou Official History: "..."

I hope this young lady will not use such a spirit to press him for the manuscript.

"Besides, that guy didn't finish the last book before he died, but I've been stuck in his pit until now!"

"...how did he die?"

"One morning when he got up to write, his pen dropped on the floor and rolled under the cabinet. He tried too hard to move the cabinet, but he burst his blood vessels and died." Xiao Ba Touching the spine of the book, he said, "It's ridiculous. It's inexplicable. My favorite person just disappeared. This world is so unreasonable."

Henggou Masashi looked at the girl with a plain face, and for some reason, couldn't laugh.

"So if there is a chance, I want to save people, if I can, I really want to save everyone, so that everyone can walk into death in the calmness of remembering the past and no regrets when the natural life span ends in old age But I'm not a god, I can't save everyone." The girl with black hair and different eyes walked to the hospital bed and put the book in Henggou Masashi's hands, "So, I choose to save what I can see. people."

"I hope that after this novel, I can see more, more, and more works than I imagined."

She smiled brightly: "—Although it is not good news for the author who is thinking about committing suicide!"

Rubbing the cover of his own novel in his hand, it took a long time for Henggou Zhengshi to remember to ask one thing: "By the way, what is the name of the author you mentioned that you like very much?"

Xiaoba is peeling an apple, ready to peel off the skin, cut it into small pieces, and then mash it into a puree: Henggou Zhengshi is a malignant tumor in the abdomen, and the doctor judges that his life span is only one year - of course, this is before Mingtu Zhuihun took over the treatment His judgment—so even if all the people who came to visit him brought fruit, he couldn't eat much, and he could only eat a little bit if it was pureed.

Hearing this, she didn't stop moving her hands: "It's a Russian writer with a very long name. Although I recently met a guy with the same name and a bad reputation, I was very angry, but——"

On the rooftop, facing the fierce wind, the young man in a black cloak and a Cossack cap pressed the earphones in his ears to make the voice clearer:

"—Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky, his name."

The author says:

Let me analyze it for you:

It is known that Xiaoba's memory is disordered, and the person he said he likes the most is Dostoevsky, so——

Xiao Bafen gave Mr. Tuo's script: You are just a stand-in, not the Dostoevsky I like!Just a stand-in of the same name!

Tuo always felt that the script he was holding: Mao Mao used him as a stand-in, but because Mao Mao's memory was confused, he was actually the person she liked, so he was a stand-in for Bai Yueguang's script

Now ask:

Is Xiaobamao a scumbag (???)

ps: Tuoshi (the one in the literary world) last book was "The Brothers Karamazov", but he died before finishing the first one. Gogol's (also the one in the literary world) last book is "The Brothers Karamazov" Dead Souls is also only the first part. It is said that the second part was originally written, but Gogol was dissatisfied and burned it to rewrite it. As a result, he died during the writing process. Now the second part of Dead Souls is said to be published The editor compiled his manuscripts for publication...

The Five Decays of Heaven and Man can't be an involuntary passive gathering of pigeon spirits! ?