Chapter 11 Trading

The transaction was completed within thirty seconds.

Just as Cheng Yiliao was about to draw the curtains and close the door, a phone call came in.

"Mr. Cheng, come out and play!"

Cheng Yiliao stayed in the dormitory almost the entire day today. After seeing the invitation, he glanced at the documents and thought that he had already got them, so he was not in a hurry to read them.

He planned to go out for a drink, play some dice, and then come back to watch a movie and go to bed comfortably.

The dormitory door opened and closed, and the clock on the wall ticked.

He Songfeng finished his evening study and returned to the dormitory.

The dormitory was empty, and the doors of several men's rooms were wide open, as if telling He Songfeng: Don't worry, we are not here.

He Songfeng clutched his schoolbag and walked slowly back to his room.

On his bed was a folded school uniform, sent by Zhang Hejing. On top of the pile of clothes lay a white and green lisianthus.

He Songfeng picked up the lonely little flower, held it in the palm of his hand, put his nose into the bud, sniffed it carefully, and smelled the fragrance of the flower.

Then his whole face twisted together and he let out a choking "A-choo" that almost blew the flowers away.

He Songfeng put the flower down with regret, and then reluctantly used his slender fingers to fiddle with the delicate petals back and forth.

He Songfeng is allergic to pollen, and for this reason, Zhao Jieyi has never given him flowers.

This was the first time he received flowers. They were beautiful and smelled great.

But soon, He Songfeng realized that he couldn't just accept other people's things like this, otherwise he would be accused of deliberately seducing people.

He hurriedly closed the flowers, said "I'm sorry" to the poor flower that he had sneezed on, and quickly returned the flowers and clothes to Zhang Hejing's room.

The flowers are sad and lonely until late at night.

Silently accusing He Songfeng of being a scumbag who just throws her away after having fun.

After reviewing his homework, He Songfeng looked at the time. It was already midnight and none of the men in the dormitory had returned.

Rich people's nightlife is indeed very rich, and they don't need to sleep at night to go out and play. But he didn't sleep at night, and spent all his time studying for exams. His fingers were numb and his eyes were dizzy from studying. He had to get up early the next day.

When he thought of this, He Songfeng's vicious resentment towards the rich came out again.

"It would be better if all the rich people died."

Another hour passed and the dormitory was still quiet.

He Songfeng tidied up the desk and sat on the edge of the bed for a while before lying down on it.

After a while, he relaxed his guard and fell into a deep sleep.

Click—click, click—

He Songfeng woke up in shock, staring blankly at the dark world with frightened eyes.

He woke up, but it was like waking up from a dream within a dream, and he was still in a dream.

He was lying in an unfamiliar environment, surrounded by people—no, they couldn't be called people, but a group of monsters with camera heads.

As they made sounds, accompanied by frequent shutter clicks and dazzling flashes, they slowly approached the helpless He Songfeng in the center of their sight like light-attracting animals.

One of the camera monsters squeezed forward first, and its huge palm wrapped around his head in a terrifying manner.

He Songfeng couldn't bear to watch it, and his eyes were filled with horror.

Soon, this group of camera monsters rushed over like a tide, surrounding He Songfeng from front to back, left to right. Even when He Songfeng looked up, the ceiling of this dark dream was a huge camera facing downwards.

Those shots made He Songfeng breathless. He couldn't tell whether it was tinnitus or the shutter sounds. The scene in front of him gradually became blurred, as if his eyeballs were covered with a ball of dirty mucus, sometimes white, sometimes black, and sometimes blood red.

The sounds of these monsters were mixed in the shutter and were unclear.

Countless hands stretched out as if from hell, densely packed together to hold up He Songfeng.

His hands were cold, not as soft as a human should be, like a plastic doll.

These monsters, which are not even human, fiddle with the dolls on the table at will.

He Songfeng took a deep breath, wanting to refuse, wanting to escape, but what he ended up doing was like a doll with broken limbs, silent and motionless.

Like a dying person taking his last breath.

The cameras were densely focused on He Songfeng, capturing his every move, even the slightest change in his expression.

It seemed that within the black mirror, there was a poor young man in dire need of help.

He Songfeng saw the imprisoned boy in the mirror, and he felt pity for him. He took the initiative to wrap his arms around and touch the huge camera in front of him.

Calmly lean over and kiss the mirror.

"It will be over soon, it's okay."

He Songfeng gently comforted the reflection in the mirror. His fingers were still touching the top of the reflection's head, gently stroking it through the cold and hard lens.

It seems that at this moment, the pitiful and extremely thin person in the camera is the real victim.

He is a bystander who stays out of the matter, and a Madonna who opens her heart to accept and comfort the other person.

He stripped himself of everything, as if by doing so, all this had nothing to do with him.

Soon, He Songfeng was knocked down.

He Songfeng still thought dully: This is a dream, it doesn’t matter.

He closed his eyes, using his habitual numbness to prepare for the pain.

At this critical moment, a loud bang, like an earthquake, violently destroyed the entire filthy dream without leaving any residue.

The huge noise was like a fist, waking He Songfeng up from his dream and forcibly dragging him back to reality.

He Songfeng first closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

After his breathing calmed down, he slowly opened his eyes, stared at the ceiling calmly, and then turned to look around.

The next second after he confirmed that he had woken up from the dream, the dull expression on He Songfeng's face suddenly cracked, like a smashed porcelain plate.

He turned around suddenly, crawled to the edge of the bed using his hands and feet, dug his slender pale fingers deeply into the edge of the bed, stuck half of his body out, and squeezed out a dry and unpleasant retching sound from his throat.

"Ha ha……"

He Songfeng slumped haggardly beside the bed, his head drooping dejectedly as if the bones had been pulled out, resting on his arms.

His bony wrists were stretched straight out, resting on the edge of the bed like a raised white flag of surrender, his fingers still trembling with fear.

There were several deep wrinkles on his pale face.

His thin body shrank up, so fragile that it seemed as if it would break at any moment. He could only breathe in small, gentle breaths through his nose.

There was another round of enthusiastic roar.

The bright lights and sounds in the living room were like ghosts spreading ghost lights underground, clinging to the cracks and squeezing into He Songfeng's dim room.

Like a hand, like a rope, it extended an olive branch of light to him who was about to die in the darkness.

It is also like an insect trap, luring weak insects to act like moths to a flame.

Unable to stay in the room any longer, He Songfeng decided to go out and take a look.

The bedroom door opened with a creaking sound, and the cold silence that rushed out from the dim bedroom quickly swept across the living room, quickly suppressing the excitement.

He Songfeng was wearing a thin cotton pajamas and standing under the door frame.

The air conditioner was on in the living room, and the wind rushed in when the door was opened.

He Songfeng's body was tightly stuck in his pajamas, and a loose piece of clothing was wrapped up to look like a tights.

He Songfeng is like an adult painting framed in a door frame, and his shadow is also a detail in this painting that cannot be ignored.

Especially when the light from the living room passed through his body and fell on the ground behind him, the shadow revealed all the curves of his body, including the hollow line between his two thin and straight thighs.

The light carved a thin oval gap on the ground, casting a faint light in the darkness.

The three men in the living room turned their heads at the same time and gave him gazes with different ulterior motives.

The author has something to say:

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Fengfeng, I mean, you are easily (……)