Little hero

The boy stood by the street lamp, his knee-length black windbreaker was blown by the night wind, and it opened wide, revealing the white shirt and dark trousers inside.The texture of the shirt was hard, as if it was lined with cardboard, and the trousers were straight and straight, with almost no wrinkles.

Three or ten minutes ago, when he came out of the building behind him, there was no such strong wind. He was dressed meticulously and looked indifferent. He looked rigid, serious and impersonal, exactly the same as the cold bronze statue of the commander in front of the city hall.

The sky is getting darker, and there is a drizzle in the misty mist. On the main street, lamplighters set up a long ladder. They open the door of the wrought iron four-corner lamp house, and light the brand new short wax in the soft rusty sound. It swayed and was stuffed into the hut, and with another "squeak", it turned into a ball of dim and flickering warm yellow.

On this rainy night, the lamplighter's movements were quick and sophisticated, and he passed the place where the young man was standing, and then went further away.

The lamp was turned on, and the boy's face became clear.

His parents are both from Jicheng, and he should have the most typical appearance of Xinji Laite, but his eyebrows are low, his nose bridge is not prominent enough, and his lips are dark pink, which is not the orthodox appearance of the local area.What's more unique is the long black hair that goes over the ears. Obviously, his ancestors have oriental blood. His kind of mixed blood is very rare, and there are not many in the entire Xinjilaite country.

The teenager had his hair done before going out. His usually loose and soft long hair was combed back according to the standard in the "Member's Rules" and fixed into a specific shape. The smooth forehead showed a full sense of youth, which probably made those middle-aged MPs on the Mediterranean crisis look red-eyed.

At this time, the rain was gradually steady, and the humidity was overwhelming, his temples were wet, and his broken hair was blown by the wind, and the solemnity that did not match his age was a little more casual.

The boy gathered his coat casually, and took out a cigarette from the inside. In such an environment, it took four fires before it was finally lit.

He put the cigarette to his lips, squinted his eyes, and inhaled deeply and slowly. The smell of tobacco rolled around in his body, and finally turned into a thick and blurred smoke, floating in a corner of the city.

There was a sound from the path beside him. It was the sound of splashing water from running into a puddle. The sound should not be far away.

Hearing the sound, the young man looked over, his black eyes had a small half arc of bright reflection under the light, showing a strange reddish-brown color, as if he was placing and waiting for some kind of expectation, but it also brought the visitation of a small animal dormant in the dark. .

The cigarette at his fingertips was left unattended, the sparks went out after the moist ash, the light smoke dissipated, and the emotion in his eyes flashed away.

"Hey, is it Blue?"

The clothes of the visitor were tattered and messy, and his brown hair was soaked by rain, drooping in front of his forehead. He had the temperament of a "street artist".

"No," the boy's voice was so low that people couldn't hear the original tone, "the person you found wrong has gone back to Liv Taste 10 minutes ago."

"Then you're the right guy, aren't you?" the person asked.

The boy nodded: "No."

The person who came reached out to support the lamppost and leaned forward, forcing him to take a step back: "Are you Lan?"

The boy nodded: "No."

"Aren't you blue?"

The boy nodded: "I am."

The visitor looked him up and down and asked, "Do you know me?"

The boy hesitated for a moment, then shook his head: "I am."

"Then you know him?" The man looked at the boy's neckline, and tapped lightly on the position of his right collarbone—it was where the boy's collar was, and there was a golden collar button, which means "Congress Bureau". , is the building behind them.

The boy nodded: "I am."

"Okay," the man spread his hands, showing his dirty palms, as if he had just dug through a garbage station, "I've seen you guys a lot, are you here to make fun of us?"

The boy frowned, but didn't say a word. The man turned a blind eye to his disgust, and said with a light smile, "No wonder everyone says that the [-]th Street District is a paradise. As expected, there are still people who dare to hook up at the gate of the bureau..."

Fifteenth Street...

Heaven……

The young man meditated in his heart, and suddenly felt something, and turned his head to look in the alley where the man came.

There are no lighting objects in the narrow alleyway, and the depth is pitch black. If you look at it a few more times, you will feel chilly, and you will have the illusion that something will come out in the next moment.

The boy tilted his ears, and seemed to hear the slight sound of footsteps.

"I'm chasing you again, haha, I've committed a crime," the man smiled and waved his hand indiscriminately, "Obviously, you're not the person I'm looking for, so let's go."

The boy nodded at him, turned around and said in a low voice, "Thank you."

The man laughed indifferently: "It's hard to walk at night, so I won't send you off."