I want to be a good person

"Yoshi, your friend, mine, like"

The director came back to his senses and smiled.

"Taijun, I still have some bullets. I'll give them to you."

"You have a very good conscience."

The left hand gives a thumbs up.

"Taijun, this is what I should do"

The two women on the bed covered their heads with quilts, and their frightened gasps could be clearly heard, looking nervous and helpless.

"My quiet, locust army reconnaissance"

“Hey, I understand.”

"Taijun, I have money and I am willing to donate it to the locust army"

"Um"

The thumbs-up went up again.

The director laughed happily and hugged the little Japanese soldier's thigh again. He was so happy in his heart that he forgot that the thumbs-up had other meanings.

"Taijun, the bullets are doing their job"

The safe was opened and inside were yellow croakers of different sizes, dollars, some colorful banknotes, documents, property deeds, and boxes of bullets.

"Um"

There was a rustling sound under the quilt on the bed, probably the woman's body shaking.

"What kind of work?"

The director's face turned a little red, and it changed several times in a short while.

"well"

Let out a long sigh.

“Flower girl.”

"oh-"

"Yoshi"

"My, loose belt, work for the Special High Section, secret, you understand, our friend."

The items in the safe flew away while the director was thinking about Hua Girl.

This little Japanese guy is quite tall, but why is his name so weird? Does Songxia mean under the pine tree, Jingshang means beside the well, Xiaoquan means under the spring, and Tianbian means the edge of the field? Tsk tsk, it's really not a good thing. Just like livestock, it sows seeds when it is in heat, regardless of the place.

The Japanese are so damn vicious!

The drifting snowflakes fell freely on the roof, windowsill, ground, and branches, but the cold air that seeped in could not offset the warmth in the house.

Wind, snow, men.

Gold, silver, banknotes.

I don't know when the wind outside stopped, the snowflakes shyly hid away, and the spring scenery began to be alluring. Maybe tomorrow the wind will pass, the snow will melt, and nothing will change. But then everything changes again.

The lights went out and the world suddenly fell into silence.

When it was daybreak, the servants got up diligently to prepare breakfast.

Empty and clean.

Soon the rumor spread throughout the county that Chief Zhou of the police station had gone to the northeast with his men. Some said that the locust army had taken a fancy to him and wanted to make him a high-ranking official. Others said that he had offended his enemies and was taken away at night. Still others said that Chief Zhou drove himself and took two of his men to send the Japanese high-ranking officials to Chengde, and that the Japanese would attack soon.

There were all kinds of rumors on the market, but they caused panic among the people. The Japanese were as vicious as locusts and were usually wiped out.

The sun came out, bright red, and the snow began to melt. Everything that was once covered was revealed, black, gray, and yellow. The world returned to its original colorful state. The county town was still the county town, still called Wucheng, and the police chief was still named Zhou, a member of the Zhou family, a large clan.

On the street.

People still do what they should do. No one wants to know who is above them. They only care about whether it is sunny or cloudy, day or night. Surviving or finding food to eat today is more important. Only when they see food and copper coins can they see light and hope in their eyes.

The meaning of life lies in hope. Although most people have never seen the white silver dollars, a golden ray of hope in their hearts is even more of a luxury.

A man carrying a shoulder pole and hawking his wares along the street would make a bang-bang sound followed by a long tone, "Selling - tofu -".

More often than not, on the main road, along the roadside, there are countless stalls, wicker baskets, or carts, flatbed trucks, and some have straw mats on the ground filled with items.

The charcoal fire in the breakfast stall is dark red and bubbling. Millet porridge, corn porridge, steaming hot buns, sesame cakes, and all kinds of food aromas are unrestrained, emitting their charm and entering the nose without permission.

My stomach was rumbling. It was the little beggar next to me. He was holding a thin wooden stick and a ceramic bowl with a chip on it.

Donkeys, cows and horses were eating straw. It was very cold, and camels also came to join in the fun.

Zhang Aiguo sat on a small stool, holding a large bowl of millet porridge in his hands, slurping the rice oil as he turned the wooden spoon around the center of the bowl.

On the small table, in a flat wicker basket, there were two browned sesame cakes, with a burnt aroma mixed with the fragrance of sesame.

He was wearing the clothes given to him by the villain he met the first time. He was a good man. His beggar clothes had not been burned yet, and his dog-beating stick and a chipped bowl were still there.

I waved my hand, and the little beggar came over with his back bent like a puppy. It's rare to find such kind-hearted people.

"What is your dog-beating stick made of?"

"Sir, the willow tree"

The little beggar's face was dirty, his hair was messy, and his clothes were very trendy, with all the torn parts exposed. They were not as good as his own beggar's clothes, with shiny black cuffs that shone brightly. Fortunately, there was little smell in winter and people did not sweat.

Zhang Aiguo pointed to two pancakes.

The little beggar swallowed visibly.

"Give me the willow branches and give you the sesame cakes"

"Hey, thank you sir"

The little beggar put the willow branch on the table with his hands full of surprise.

He put the two buns in his arms and ran away, fearing that they would be snatched away.

After eating a bowl of hot porridge, I felt much more relaxed.

The meat buns are delicious, and the taste is so good, but I just don’t dare to eat them.

Last night I was holding my stomach and it was hard, and I overworked myself cleaning the gun. Fortunately, the zipper wasn't pinched in my previous life, so it's okay, I think it can still develop a little bit.

I've seen all kinds of things in the world, and I've learned that good people don't live long. I don't want to be a good person anymore. I'm submissive and fed up with the contempt and disdain. The pride and pride I once thought I had are nothing in the eyes of those who are high and mighty.

Don't do anything that is outrageous, but don't be too picky about the rest. Just live happily and don't make yourself feel miserable.

Zhang Aiguo was thinking about things, wondering what path he should take.

A red box of Hardman cigarettes was thrown on the table. On the box was a woman in a green cheongsam with wide inverted sleeves, revealing her slender white arms. Her jade hands gently supported her chin, and she leaned against the railing looking at you affectionately. She had permed hair, telling you that you were fragrant.

Next to the cigarette box is a box of matches, with the lucky star on top of the matches, and a bat flying up to the crescent moon.

In martial arts books, there is a horse, a sword, a dog, a man, a bamboo hat, and a wine gourd, and that's it, the highest level of pretense, a free and easy immortal. If you are a hero, you either have a hammer or a sword, a red tasseled spear, a large halberd handle, a famous horse and a beautiful woman.

Cigarette butts were thrown on the ground, but no one stepped on them because there were people who made a living by picking up cigarette butts.

Put away the willow sticks, cigarettes, and matches.

The road is right under your feet.

Zhang Aiguo looked up. The sky was very blue and the sun was very red.