The man with the perfect beard walked past the beaded curtains at the back of the shop and immediately began to talk in Portuguese. Li Huai's arrival obviously interrupted him. The man soon began to appear, and a woman returned to him at an extremely fast and twice as fast.

During the lively conversation, Li Huai wandered around, looking up from time to time to see if anyone was watching on the street. Finally, after making sure that he was not under surveillance, he opened his fist and smoothed the piece of paper. Before reading a word, he knew it was from Mai Xia:

Don't go to my apartment. It's not good. I am in the same place. If you get itchy, please come by 3 in the morning.

"A message?" a woman's voice asked.

Li Badi looked up. He has almost no time to bite Christ! He saw her almost muttering to herself. Three-quarters of the woman's face is a mass of hard stains and sunken scar tissue. The remaining quarter—her beautiful left eye and eyebrows on top (plus a carefully woven wig, which is a curly hair)—seems to only make the rest of the face cruel. Her nose narrowed to two round holes. Her right eye and the corner of her mouth are all eyelashes and lips. Li Huai focused his attention on his left eye and answered him in a daze. This was just a repetition of her question.

"Message?" he said.

"Yes," she said, looking down at the confetti in her hand. "Do you want to bring flowers?"

"Oh," Li Bai breathed a sigh of relief. "no, thank you."

He quickly put the message in his pocket, nodded, and left the flower shop, leaving its bad omen behind him.

Li Huai brought the note, the confusion about its content, and the intense hunger to Cherington's bar, a dark and quiet puddle he found on the first day in New York. It serves old-fashioned food with little fuss, and they know him well, he just slides into his corner, nods to a waitress named Phyllis, and there will be a big bourbon on it-no ice cubes. His desk is within sixty seconds, sometimes less. The stagnant practice has its advantages.

"You look good, Phyllis," Li Huai said as he drank him in record time.

"I am going to retire."

"What? When?"

"Next week is over. I will have a small party on Friday night, just for the staff and some regulars. Are you in town?"

"If I were, I would be here."

Li Huai studied her. She was probably in the mid-sixties, which means that when Li Huai first found this place, she was close to 40 years old. From 40 to 60 years old is a lot of life, a lot of opportunities have come, gone, never come again.

"Will you get better?" Li Huai said.

"Yeah. I'm not going to die or have nothing. I just can't sit in this place anymore. I don't sleep at night. I'm tired, Li Bad."

"You don't watch."

"Should someone who doesn't like you be a good liar?" she said as she left the table, lest Li Badi answered with much effort.

Li Biao returned to the corner of the booth and took out the note again. Not as scared as Mai Xia. The place where she lives is undoubtedly the most haunted apartment in the city. She has held consultation meetings for the deceased for more than 30 years-personally experienced stories of violence, murder of victims, suicides, deaths of people crossing the road or being stopped by things falling from windows. If anyone can honestly claim that he has heard all this, it is Mai Xia. So, what made her leave the ghost, the TV and the kitchen, and she didn't know the location of everything until the last teaspoon?

He looked at the clock above the bar. It's six thirty two. He is still eight hours away. He can't wait that long.

"Bastard these three in the morning," Li Hao said. He put down the bourbon and called Phyllis, "It's time to close the tab, Phyllis!"

"Where is the fire?" she said, returning to Li Badi's booth.

"I have to be faster than I thought."

He stuffed a hundred-dollar bill in her hand.

"What is this for?"

"You," Li Huai said, already turning to the door. "In case I don't go to your party."

Li Huai got out of the taxi at the thirteenth and ninth corner. The intersection is not Li Huai's real destination. In a building that was once well-preserved, I walked a few blocks further, which once housed lawyers and doctors, including psychiatrists. Li Huai was in the waiting room of one of the latter. She was a psychiatrist named after the physician Ben Krakomberg, and it was the first time that Li Huai saw Maisha Paine.

After the death of Hongdou, Li Huai was dismissed. Li Huai’s description of the event that led to the death of his partner that night proved to be much larger than the department could chew, so they gave him to Krakömberg, who kept asking him in a polite but persistent manner. Li Huai put pressure to "imagine" that he had met.

Li Huai would go through all this time and time again from time to time, frustrating Kracomberg’s attempts, making Li Huai somewhat inconsistent from telling to telling. Finally, the doctor said: "In the final analysis, Li Huai. In the end, your view of what happened that day is absurd. In less serious cases, I would call it ridiculous."

"Is this true?"

"Yes."

"So I keep pouring out my **** heart to you-"

"Calm down, Mr. Li Huai."

Li Huai stood up. "Don't bother me. You are telling me that all of this is making me over and over again. Are you laughing inside?"

"I'm not saying-please, Mr. Amour, please sit down, otherwise I will have to force you to-"

"I'm sitting there. Okay? Li Huai, okay?" Li Huai sat down on the table between the good doctor and his treatment couch.

"Yes, but if you feel you need to get up again, then I suggest you leave."

"If I wanted to, what would you put on my paper?"

"Due to the extreme state of delusion, you are not suitable for serving. This is almost certainly caused by the trauma of the incident. Mr. Damu, no one calls you a lunatic. I just need to make an honest assessment of your boss."

"Extreme delusional state..." Li Badi said softly.

"People respond to the kind of pressure you have to endure in very different ways. You seem to have created a personal myth to encompass the entire terrible experience and understand it-"

He was interrupted by a series of crashes in the next room, where Krakömberg's secretary was sitting.

The voice of a woman-not the voice of the secretary-said: "It's not me!"

The doctor got up, apologized to Li Badi, and opened the door. When Krakömberg did this, several magazines flew past him and landed on the Persian carpet in the doctor's office. Suddenly, the hair on the back of Li Bad's neck stood up. Li Bad's user interface tells him that no matter what the problem is next door, this is not only an annoying patient. This is something completely strange.

He took a deep breath, stood up, and followed Krakomberg to the waiting room. When Li Badi did this, the doctor flinched and hurriedly fell on his feet.

"What the **** is going on?" Li Hao said.

Krakömberg looked at him with blood on his face and a crazy expression.

"Did you do this?" he said to Li Badi. "Is this a practical joke?"

"No," said the woman in the waiting room.

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