Chapter 263:

…And now, after only three months of living with his admiration and spending his day and night life, she has lost her perfect aura. New York is just a city.
He saw her wake up in the morning like a slut, pick out the murdered man from between her teeth, and choose to commit suicide from the tangles in her hair. He saw her late at night, bargaining shamelessly in the dirty backstreet. He looked at her in the hot afternoon, dull and ugly, indifferent to the atrocities committed in her throttle every hour.
That is not a joy palace.
It brings death, not happiness.
Everyone he met was full of violence. This is a fact in life. It is almost fashionable to know people who have died of violence. This is proof of living in that city.
But Li Huai has loved New York from a distance for nearly two decades. He has planned his relationship for most of his adult life. Therefore, it is not easy to get rid of this passion, as if he had never felt it before. There was still a very early time when the sirens started, or in the twilight, Manhattan was still a miracle.
At that moment, for the sake of his dream, even if she did not act like a lady, he still gave her the benefit of doubt.
She did not forgive easily. During the months when Li Huai lived in New York, her streets were flooded with blood.
In fact, it is not so much the street itself as the tunnel under the street.
"Metro slaughterhouse" is a buzzword this month. Only in the previous week, three more people were killed. According to reports, the body was found in a subway car on American Avenue and was chopped open and partially torn down, as if the job of an efficient slaughterhouse operator was interrupted. The slaughter was so professional that The police are interviewing every person on record who has historical ties to the slaughter industry and monitoring the meat packaging plant by the water. , The slaughterhouse looked for clues and promised to arrest quickly, but no arrests were made.
In this state, the three bodies discovered recently are not the first. On the day Li Huai arrived, a story in The Times broke down, and this was still the topic of every sick secretary in the office.
The story is about a German tourist who was lost in the subway system late at night and met a corpse on the train. The victim was a burly, attractive thirty-year-old woman from Brooklyn. She has been completely deprived. Every piece of clothing, every piece of jewelry. Even the studs on her ears.
What is stranger than is the neat, systematic way of folding up clothes and placing them in a single plastic bag on the seat next to the body.
This is not an irrational spur at work. This is a well-organized mind: a madman with a sense of neatness. Moreover, what is stranger than the careful peeling of the corpse is the anger at it at the time. The report claimed that although the police station failed to confirm this, the body had been carefully shaved. Every hair was removed: from the head, groin, from under the arms; everything was cut off and scorched back to the flesh. Even the eyebrows and eyelashes are plucked out.
In the end, this too naked plate was hung on a fixed handle on the roof of the car by feet, and a black plastic bucket lined with a black plastic bag was placed under the corpse to hold the horse. Blood fell from the wound.
In this state, people found the corpse, peeled, shaved, suspended and almost bleeding white. This is disgusting, meticulous, and deeply confusing.
There was no and no signs of torture. The woman was dispatched quickly and effectively, as if she were a piece of meat. The butcher is still loose.
The mayors used their wisdom to announce the complete closure of news reports about the massacre. It is said that the person who found the body was in protective detention in New Jersey without questioning reporters. But the cover-up failed. Some greedy police have leaked important details to the reporters of The Times. Now everyone in New York knows the terrible story of the massacre. This is a topic in every delicatessen and bar. Of course, on the subway
He was only the first.
Now, three more bodies have been found under the same circumstances. Although this work has obviously been interrupted. Not all corpses have been shaved, nor have the jugular veins been cut to bleed. There is another more important difference in this discovery: it is not a tourist who discovered by accident, but a reporter from the New York Times.
Li Huai investigated the front page of the newspaper. He has no strong interest in this story, unlike his elbow friend at the deli counter. All he felt was a slight disgust, which made him push aside a plate of hard-boiled eggs. This is just further proof of the waste of his city. He can't be happy about her illness.
However, as a human, he cannot completely ignore the details on the page in front of him. This article is perfectly written, but the simple and clear style makes the topic even more shocking. He couldn't help but want to know the man behind the violence. Are people with one or more mental illnesses inspired to replicate the original murder? Maybe this is just the beginning of the horror. Maybe there will be more murders, until the murderer becomes excited or exhausted, and finally becomes cautious and is taken. Before that, Li Huai's beloved city will live between hysteria and ecstasy.
On his elbow, a bearded man knocked on Li Badi's coffee.
"Shit!" he said.
Li Huai transferred on the stool to prevent the coffee from leaving the counter.
"Damn it," the man said again.
No harm. "Li Bad said.
He looked at the man with a contemptuous expression on his face. The clumsy was trying to absorb the coffee on a napkin, and the napkin became mushy.
Li Huai found himself wondering whether this pair of oatmeal with those rich cheeks and uncultivated beard could kill people. Are there any signs on that satiated face, any clues from the shape of his head or the turning of his small eyes that made his nature disappear?
The man speaks.
"Miss Mom?"
Li Badi shook his head.
"Coffee. Regular. Dark." Oatmeal said to the girl behind the counter. She looked up from the grill of clean cold fat. "Ok?"
"Coffee. Are you deaf?"
The man smirked at Li.
"Deaf," he said.
Li Badi noticed that his jaw was missing three teeth.
"It doesn't look good, doesn't it?" he said.
What does he mean coffee? Without his teeth?
"Three people like this. Li Huan nodded.
"Make you think," he said. "of course."
"I mean, this is a cover, isn't it? They know who did it."
Li Badi thinks this conversation is absurd. He took off his glasses and put them in his pocket: the bearded face was no longer focused. At least this is some improvement.
"Son B," he said. "Damn bastard, everyone. I will cover everything about you."
"what?"
"They have evidence: They just plunge us into darkness. Some things there are not humans." Li Badi understood. Oatmeal is a conspiracy theory. He often hears them. The panacea. "Look, they did all this cloning, and it turned out to be out of control.
As far as we know, they may be growing into monsters.
There are some things they won’t tell us.
Cover up, like I said. Lie. Li Badi found that men's certainty was very attractive. The monsters searched around. Six heads: twelve eyes. Why not?
He knew why he didn't know. Because that forgave his city: that got her out of trouble. Li Huai believes that the monster found in the tunnel is a perfect human being.
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