Helan's hands were wrapped around her neck, and he was staring at her throat.
A hard thing suddenly poked into his chest and he took a step back and looked down.
"What is this?"
"A Sony-brand voice recorder."
He Lanjing knitted his eyebrows: "Do you want to record us?"
Pipi nodded hard and made a gesture. Yang said: "Mr. Helan, you think that you're a 900-year-old fox? Can you say it in one sentence?"
They were on an avenue leading to the city. There were a lot of cars on the road, the lights were staggered, and the scanners flashed in front of their faces. There were no pedestrians on the roadside, but an old man in a cotton jacket was picking up rubbish.
He Lanjing was stunned and then sneered: "It seems that you are really not afraid of me."
"No, I'm not afraid," Pipi shook her head decisively. "This is the place where I used to live, just behind us is the crematorium, to the left is the tomb of the martyrs, and next door is the wreath shop. I am not afraid of anything, even ghosts."
In fact, this was not the place where Pipi had lived. It was the place where Pipi's friend Xin Xiaoju lived. Because she had lived in such a place from an early age, Xiaoju was considered to be a sinister reincarnation, possessed by ghosts. When she was in junior high school, although she was top-notch in mathematics, there were not many people who would pay attention to her in the class, repressing their natural curiosity.
"I am not a ghost."
"You have a shadow." Pipi pointed to the ground and agreed.
"I repeat, I am --"
"Unless you can prove it."
Silently confronted for a few seconds, He Lanjing suddenly smiled and said: "There are less trees than there used to be."
This time it was Pipi's turn to ask: "Trees?"
"Weren't you asking me what I feel? These are my feelings."
There were more trees before than there were now. It was nonsense. The price at that time was still lower than it was now!
This person has lived for 900 years. What was he talking about?
Pipi suddenly scorned him: "Helan, you have been alive for so many years."
Back in the car, He Lanjing twisted the dial on the radio again, and the car once again echoed the depressed E major serenade.
"Is this the kind of music that a fox likes?"
"Yes."
"This is - your radio station?"
"Yes."