But What did the Novelist do Wrong?

102

Chapter 102

    Qingchi Lianyang knew that he was dreaming.

    Because he saw Mr. Police, and himself.

    He was wearing a sweater, probably in his twenties, sitting at the desk writing, holding a pen made of white bone in his hand, which was not given by Osamu Dazai, and the style was completely unfamiliar.

    Mr. Police stood behind him, holding a glass bowl, half of which was dangling with blood, looking like a conscious blood monster, about to overflow from it and rush to freedom.

    No, that man is not Mr. Police.

    Although the appearance is the same, the personality is the same, and even the mouth cravings are the same, but it is not him.

    Mr. Police will not see his adopted son write with bones and ink with blood.

    Mr. Police's eyes are always black and bright, like the sun that never sets. Even in the most embarrassing time, he sticks to justice and optimism.

    However, even knowing that it wasn't him, Qingchi Lianyang also subconsciously raised her hand, wanting to touch it.

    He raised his hand and froze.

    It wasn't the fact that there was an entity in the dream from God's perspective, but...it wasn't his hand.

    These hands are slender and pale, like a vampire in an ancient castle who has not seen the sun all year round. The skin is so thin that it is almost transparent, the blue blood vessels below are clearly visible, the wrist bones are prominent, and the joints are distinct. The ten fingers are covered with thin calluses, the middle finger, index finger and ring finger are the thickest.

    These are not gun cocoons, nor are they laboring hands.

    People who work at desks all year round?

    Soon, Qingchi Lianyang discovered that the man raised his hand, not out of his control, but the owner of the body just happened to look down at his hand.

    He is now like a ghost possessing a person, sharing the other person's perspective, but cannot control his actions.

    The man spoke quickly, his voice clear and gentle, and polite.

    "Qingchi-kun, what are you thinking?"

    Qingchi Lianyang saw that his hand holding the pen paused slightly, then raised his head, and answered blankly.

    "I don't know."

    "Strange."

    The man's tone became helpless, but after listening carefully, there was nothing surprising.

    "You obviously have nothing to worry about. Your heart knot has been untied. You have killed all your enemies, and you have companions and friends, loyal followers, and powerful abilities that no one can match. Could it be that an indifferent person like you can Will there be a period of emptiness and confusion after revenge?"