Chapter 49 Take care of yourself! (bona fide)
Take it away quickly, even if necessary take away his property as well, as long as it can avoid disaster and keep him alive, anything is fine.
Money can be earned again, and the jump can be seen later, but life once lost is really gone. He knows what is important.
After receiving the news, Senjianmu and Endo Shusaku could only remain silent for a while. Facing a collapsed person, the two of them had no choice. The worst result was to bear the pain of taking the 500 billion, but inevitably, the risk of the 500 billion would be transferred to them out of thin air.
Hot potato.
"Five hundred billion, it won't matter where you put it, let him take it first."
Qian Jianmu sighed and felt a little headache.
Endo Shusaku understood what he meant instantly.
"Do you want to help him fake his death and hide it?"
"âŚWhen did you see him die?"
"It was about two to three years later. He died so quickly that I didn't see who killed him. But his special abilities seemed to have been extracted by some method..."
"...Extract the supernatural power?" He paused and said, "Hide him, and then clean up the small organization in Yokohama. The water is too muddy, and there will be trouble."
The sun had risen in the morning. Qian Jianmu was sitting by the window, feeling quite relaxed. But before he knew it, a gust of wind blew towards him, lifting the petals on the window sill and blowing them onto his face. It didn't hurt, but it was a little itchy.
ââŚâ
The world consciousness is also raging with impotence today.
I used to be able to curse him, but now I just spit and give him the middle finger. It seems that my world consciousness has become somewhat numb.
He paused, and became more certain:
"You need to clean the house before you can welcome guests, right?"
Although those who were in the intelligence business couldn't do anything with real weapons, adding some information to the intelligence was enough to lead to the destruction of many groups.
If there are people who really want to muddy the waters in Yokohama, they should be filtered first. It's okay for the mice in your own house to make trouble, you can wait until the cat grows up to deal with it. But it would be inappropriate if big rats from outside came in and killed the cat.
Endo Shusaku did not doubt it and accepted the order naturally. After a while, he returned to his normal tone and joked with him:
"One of the reasons why Mitsuyo Kakuda gave us the money actually has something to do with you."
"UmâŚâŚ?"
"He seemed to have guessed that we had a relationship with Mr. Mujian. He said, 'It would be more useful to give the money to Mr. Mujian.' 'Let Mr. Mujian shine on his creative path.'"
ââŚâ
Ah...it's so easy to cheat you guys out of your money in the second dimension.
**
After receiving the order to hide her identity, Mitsuyo Kakuta was not depressed. It was as if a huge stone hanging in her heart had fallen off. She felt light all over, her hair stopped falling out, and she stopped wailing. She seemed to have seen hope for the future and became ten years younger.
As for not being allowed to go out? Isn't it normal to be a stay-at-home kid who doesn't go out? He doesn't even have to do any tasks, he can get paid without doing anything, and the boss will solve any troubles for him. Is there any better job than this?
Moreover, this boss obviously had no intention of killing people for money. Five hundred billion was too huge a sum, so he just let him keep it first. He had no intention of taking his pitiful 200 million, and Endo Shusaku even scolded him.
"Stop howling! Who wants your 200 million?"
He was scolded, but he felt great about being scolded.
In countless dreams, he was killed again and again. There is no reason, no logic. He didn't do anything against the law, and he didn't spend a penny of the money after inheriting it, but he still became a street rat in Yokohama, hiding and afraid to go home.
If scolding him could solve the problem, if scolding him could help someone share the pain, then he would rather be scolded all his life, or even become an M.
After hanging up the phone, Mitsuyo Kakuta, feeling relaxed, placed the new magazine that she had secretly bought in the morning on the table, clasped her hands together, and prayed in a formal manner.
"Thank you for your care, Boss. I will always be a big fan of Mr. Mokuen. May you live in peace and happiness."
Although Endo Shusaku did a good job of keeping the secret, what Mitsuyo Kakuta never told anyone was that his special ability was far more than just storage space.
Superpower: Sky Courtyard: Creates a courtyard space based on the strength of the superpower, and inanimate objects of the same size as the courtyard can be stored in the courtyard. Users can mentally enter the courtyard and conduct normal activities, with the time inside and outside being synchronized.
The 500 billion is actually a mixture of gold, jewelry, banknotes, etc. The total price is about 500 billion, but if it is placed in his space, it only occupies a small area and is not very important at all.
One day, when Endo Shusaku asked him to deliver goods, he included a sample magazine in it. When Mitsuyo Kakuta had nothing to do, she would walk around in the space and accidentally discovered the sample magazine.
There is still one week left until the publication.
The only people who can get sample issues are magazine staff and writers.
He suspected that Endo Shusaku must be related to Makuma because he had also heard the term 'Mr. Makuma' from him. After observation and speculation, he became more and more certain that the big boss was Mr. Makuma. He told Endo about this and swore that he would keep the secret to himself and would never tell anyone even if he died.
Because he really likes Mr. Mujian's book.
And itâs super cool to get the authorâs autograph.
Mitsuyo Kakuta is a very emotional man. When he was a child, he was depressed because he couldn't braid his hair like his female classmates, but when he grew up, he would cry his eyes out because of a few books. He cried every time he read Mr. Makuma's book. Or not just every book, but every issue. He cried hard every week. At first he tried to hide it, but later he was discovered by Endo Shusaku. He cried in front of Endo, and Endo did not stop him. He therefore concluded that the boss and the head boss were definitely not bad people.
Happy today, Mitsuyo Kakuta opened the magazine. He happily took a bottle of fat house happy water, hesitated for a moment, and felt that his happiness today was indestructible and he would never fail again, so he decisively did not take the tissue.
The happy Mitsuyo Kakuta can do anything!
20 minutes later...
The happy Mitsuyo Kakuta cried like an idiot!
**
The news that two truckloads of Contemporary Image magazines were missing during transportation was robbed caused a sensation in Japan and was included in the list of confusing behaviors of the year.
People who donât read contemporary books are confused and ask, âNo, why are you snatching books?â How many tens of thousands of yen can you make by selling by weight?
People today understand but are angry. If they just grab it, can they please leave some for themselves? They wonât be able to buy it anymore!
Contemporary adjusted the goods overnight to barely fill the gap and maintain daily circulation. But the stolen magazines were already in circulation, and reviews of them had already appeared on forums before they were even officially sold.
These people bought the black market versions, so they were naturally embarrassed to use their own IDs, so they all remained anonymous. After the official version was released, the number of anonymous people began to decrease. But perhaps because they have realized the benefits of anonymity, more than half of the forum area of ââ"Unloved" is anonymous.
Around the next morning, because there was no worry of being exposed, anonymous reviews with bolder and more cruel comments had already occupied the front page. Because no one knew their information, many obscure stories were particularly easy to tell.
The red-letter post at the top of the homepage had an astonishing reply rate and was even published in the news shortly afterwards.
ăanonymous:
Theme name: Only talk about customs and love
Subtitle: I donât have much other love to talk about, so letâs talk about love.
Everyone has probably heard the story of Cinderella:
Cinderella lost her crystal slipper at midnight. The prince searched the whole city for her by measuring the size of the shoe to her feet, and finally found her.
I have never thought this story was beautiful since I was a child. I just thought it was ridiculous, extremely ridiculous.
What the prince is looking for is not Cinderella, but the carrier of love that matches his idea of ââlove. The shoe is there, and whoever wears it is Cinderella. There is no intersection of hearts between two people's love and acquaintance. If you look into the end of love, it turns out to be a stone shoe that will not change with time.
It is not happiness, but the pain destined in a long destiny.
It is not happiness, but a daydream of intersecting interests.
It's not about loving you, it's about loving the type of people he likes.
It's not about loving you, it's about loving the shadow that he wants.
I said to my mother, doesnât anyone think thatâs wrong?
My knowledgeable adoptive mother exhaled a puff of cigarette, smiled, and said nothing.
That was a long time ago, more than ten years ago, when I had just graduated from college. I was full of courage and felt that I could overcome everything. At that time, I was selling my talent.
Later, my adoptive mother passed away, my heart gradually cooled, and my former persistence turned into a handful of snow on the wasteland. I stopped selling my talent, inherited my mother's career, and started selling love.
I am a brothel owner and I own several shops for both men and women.
No one is better suited to talk about love than me. I make a living and do this as my profession.
But do I believe in love?
I believe it, but I believe more in a warm lunch.
In my life, I have seen countless pairs of beautiful crystal shoes. Countless people have cut off their toes in order to run towards the happiness that fits their feet. There are also a few lucky ones who happen to find shoes that fit their feet, so they put them on with joy and embark on that dreamy grand wedding.
They want love, and they endure present or future pain.
Without exception, they ended up stumbling and crying to the finish line.
Do you know the cheating rate of Japanese men?
60%.
Six out of every ten married men have affairs with other women, trampling on past love.
Do you know the cheating rate of Japanese women?
50%
One out of every two married women runs into the arms of a man other than her husband and immerses herself in endless love.
The women got drunk in the gigolo club, and as the champagne was opened, there were cheers, singing and dancing in a drunken stupor.
Men lingered in Kabukicho, kneaded the bodies of strangers of the opposite sex with their fingers, and slept on countless fragrant beds.
I asked the female guests and the male guests.
I said, you all have families, why donât you go home?
The guests fell silent, their cheeks flushed with alcohol and their scarlet eyes soaked in desire.
They said, "When you think about it, it's probably because you want to be loved."
The love of the past has cooled, the heels have grown bigger or smaller with age, but the stone's shoes are stubborn and refuse to change. So I threw away the old love and shouted for love with an empty heart that had lost love.
Hey, stop pretending.
I just want to sneer.
This is not love.
We trample on love and look for better things to rely on.
We indulge in false care and desire, and treat genuine feelings and restraints as garbage.
We all know that was betrayal, we all know that was not love.
But we have become animals of love, lost our human loyalty, and become one with the wild beasts.
âŚ
After inheriting the store, I have a lot of scumbag friends.
Only after people grow up can they realize that it is difficult to judge each person as a good person or a bad person. Just like I am working in an illegal industry and I consider myself to be full of sins. But in the eyes of my friends, I am actually a sentimental good person.
I have a male friend who parties every night, hangs out in hotels in the streets and alleys, and brings prostitutes into the hotels one by one. He is not a good person. All he has in his pocket is a wallet and a safe. He looks handsome, but he once sent a girl to the hospital.
He laughed at me for having no place to vent my kindness, and told me to live a life of indulgence. Anyway, I hired so many beautiful boys and girls, and there would always be a style that suits my taste. If you don't like those boys and girls, just find a decent person to marry. The unrealistic expectations of love of a little girl who has never had any emotional experience will sooner or later be shattered by the reality of her fantasy.
As he said this, he began to look through his address book, trying to introduce me to a suitable marriage partner.
I said I donât want it, thatâs not love.
He said everyone is like this, and that's love.
I canât say whatâs wrong, I just feel that itâs wrong. All the so-called correctness is wrong.
We drank and argued about love, just like fish fantasizing about the desert, like leaves in the south discussing the snow in the north. The two people quarreled until their faces were red, looked at each other, and suddenly burst into hysterical laughter.
I don't know what I'm laughing at, and it doesn't seem like there's anything funny. It's like laughing at myself, laughing at this twisted and unreality society, and laughing at this life that will sooner or later go astray towards hell.
One day, I saw "Love".
It's hard to describe the feeling of electricity flowing through me at that moment. I saw what Lilith said to me.
I felt complicated and thought of many things. I found them funny and ironic, but I also thought that maybe I was thinking too much.
I slightly modified it and sent it to my male friend:
"After being honest with each other and understanding each other, even those who are not in love will fall in love with each other."
"What do you think of this line? What does it sound like?"
He asked me, "Is this a new term for your store clerks? It's very suitable, right?"
I said, "...Isn't this the same as a blind date?"
Yeah, isnât this how blind dates are called? As long as we know each other, as long as we understand each other, as long as we can be honest with each other, then we can love each other.
Expecting love but unable to fulfill it? Then letâs go on a blind date. Iâll introduce you to some friends. You can treat each other well, get married and have children. It will be a wonderful thing and a beautiful love story.
But the same statement also applies to brothels.
We are all trying to fill our long lives with short-term satisfactions, so we are doomed to fail.
At what point do we, who blindly seek love, lose the standards for finding love?
He was silent for a long time, then said:
"Xx, now I know what's wrong with you."
This is our love. Because of desire, so ask for it at will. Emotions become weird, twisted, hideous, and inhuman, and then naturally decay, betray, and linger elsewhere. I have been pretending all my life that I have met someone who can wear my shoes and that I have found a home for my emotions.
Pain comes after love, and we wander around and can't find a way out.
Hello, can anyone tell me whatâs wrong with this society?
Are you all looking for love?
Is this the love we are looking for?
âŚ
I used to employ dozens of boys and girls in their twenties. Each of them was very pretty and cheerful. They would call me sister when they saw me, and would intimately complain to me about excessive customers, hoping that I could care about them more. I knew they were asking for my love.
Children are very smart. They whisper sweet nothings to their guests and laugh as they imagine the bright future that may come, but they never have excessive expectations. The body is warm, but the heart is an empty hole. When people come, a cold wind with icy particles blows, breaking all the flowers and grass into pieces, leaving only messy debris all over the ground.
They devour food in big mouthfuls, intending to fill the emptiness through the feeling of fullness; they smile and treat everyone gently, trying to swallow all kindness into their stomachs.
They liked me because I told them where I came from.
I was a child abandoned by a prostitute. My adoptive mother was also a prostitute. After she became independent, she opened a prostitute shop. A clerk abandoned a girl, and she picked her up and raised her well. That was me.
I never look down on them, I am the boss, but at the end of the day there is no difference between me and them.
I also feel that we are no different than any other service industry in the world.
Others sell goods.
Children sell their youth,
I sell love.
You see, what is different in such a society?
I teach every child to look calmly, not to be deceived, to seek true love, and not to force themselves to wear crystal shoes that don't fit their feet.
Itâs not that Iâm worried, but most of these children may have never experienced real love.
Lack of family, cruelty of parents, favoritism of sisters, bullying at school, and humiliation by others. I am afraid that their minds will be distorted by the bloody love, and they will mistake the whip for love and the poison for delicacy.
They are very well-behaved. They would rather fill themselves with food and seek my love by my side than believe a word from the guests.
But later, when the economy went into recession, large numbers of children began to go into business to make a living, and those in their twenties were still able to remain obedient. But later, I met so many teenagers, and I couldnât even see their clear and innocent eyes. How could I choose among the turbid emotions? I can only eat it together with the love and pain.
So they make mistakes, get pregnant or have abortions, are tortured or played with. Deceived by so-called love, wandering between life and death, walking through others' decades-long paths in just a few years.
When their children encounter bad economic times, they will follow in their footsteps.
As a result, more and more people go into the sex industry, love becomes cheaper and cheaper, all love shrinks together, and numbness and alcohol seep into the heart and brain.
This era of this society is a carnival of infinite depravity.
What else can I do? After many twists and turns, I found out that I was also one of the murderers.
âŚ
âŚ
A few weeks ago, I adopted a child. Just like where I came from, abandoned and adopted.
I held her in my arms, feeling heavy, and a little expectant, but not much. I just hope she grows up normally, with healthy thoughts, a healthy body, and healthy behavior.
Then I suddenly remembered the strange relationship between me and my adoptive mother.
She said:
"Don't hate me, but don't like me too much either."
"Being a mother and daughter doesn't mean you will become someone like me, but it doesn't mean I don't want you to become someone like me. I raised you and sent you to school so that you can choose who you want to be. You have to choose and think for yourself."
She said:
"I just lied to you, are you happy?"
"I lied to you, even if you are happy, you should still be angry. You should get angry first and let me apologize to you. Happiness is not a reason to lie, and gratitude should come after apology."
She said:
"What is love? Don't be fooled."
"Everyone will feel lonely, don't take any feelings seriously. People are islands, if you force them to get close, they will only collide. Don't have too many feelings for me, I'm just like that to you."
She said:
"I like your opinion on Cinderella, but I think you need to think about it again."
"If your shoes don't fit, change them. If you don't have shoes, go barefoot. Who isn't born barefoot? Why do you have to look for that pair of shoes? Will they be buried with you when you die? You can't stop wearing shoes because you're afraid they won't fit, and you can't stop taking off shoes because you're afraid you'll have nothing to wear."
"You're crazy, don't do such a useless thing."
She died of cancer. She was in so much pain that her face turned pale. When she saw me crying, she said angrily:
"Does it hurt? Of course it hurts."
"The only people who don't feel pain are the dead. Those who try every possible way to avoid pain are committing suicide."
My mother, who has seen too much bitterness in the world, broke down all the truths and told them to me. Those stories were forgotten by me, but I picked them up again and again inadvertently. I grew up little by little, retraced the path she had walked, and became who I am now.
Now I take out those words mixed in with the jokes and think over them again and again. I feel that there is no need to be so fussy about some of the answers.
She never talked to me about love in detail, maybe because she sneered at it, or maybe because she couldn't explain it clearly.
Love is too complicated to be explained clearly. There is no way to have the best of both worlds, and there is no shortcut to saving each other. There are so many online gossips, as if a few random words can find a way out, but in fact, we should understand that everyone has their own story.
"Love" tells us about two kinds of people, one of whom longs for love and rushes forward recklessly. A kind of rejection of love, and then closing off healing.
I think this book is not about classifying what kind of people we are, nor is it telling us what kind of person we should become. Instead, it recognizes the existence of distortion and then simply gives a warning, warning us not to become that kind of person, warning us not to continue falling into this abyss.
The good thing about literary works is that they reveal some extreme truths, but cheating lies in never providing solutions.
Many people start to get involved, make a lot of noise, and want to have the best of both worlds, but they can't explain it clearly. Everyone is talking about these two different perspectives, some say the first one is right, some say the second one is right. The quarrel was very intense.
I think they are both right, but I also donât think itâs necessary to be too fussy about it.
The environment is like this, and we are all moving forward with our burdens and living our own lives.
How can life not be painful? Everyone lives in pain and confusion.
I showed this book to my boys and girls, and they were a little confused and didn't quite understand.
I said, letâs not watch Love, letâs go watch the sunrise.
My children and I once watched the sunrise during the cherry blossom season. Twenty or thirty children would sit on the beach, laughing and waiting for the sun to rise. The cherry blossoms would be blown down by the wind and covered us. The boys put clothes on the girls and the girls poured hot water for the boys. It was a bustling place, with men and women approaching each other but without love. The strong smell of perfume was blown away by the sea breeze, and everyone was laughing without caring about their image. The golden light shines on my body, the cherry blossoms float on the ground, and all the love and pain are gone.
At this time, who still remembers the dirty love and pain? The sea breeze blows across the face, and the tea is filled with the faint vapor of cherry blossoms.
Our life is like a bag covering our heads, a distorted society under our feet, love is an isolated island that we have crashed into, wealth and status are fleeting glimpses that are far beyond our reach, the rush of fate is beyond our control, and the length of our life is like a swaying mockery.
You ask me how I view pain and love now? I still feel ridiculed, still feel resistant, and still have incredible delusions and expectations. But I wonât tell you my answer.
There is no answer, don't expect an answer.
I can only say in the tone of a brothel owner: throw away the shoes when they no longer fit, don't be swayed by desire, and be careful not to let your life fall into a quagmire.
WHAT ELSE?
besides,
Although the night is dark, there is sun before and after.
Whether it is sunrise or sunset, as long as you face the sun, you are facing the darkness and facing the light.
Don't look at love, look at the rising sun.
The sunset is fine too, itâs up to you, but I prefer the sunrise.
ă
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