Chapter 261:

...Now the boy above her felt them. She saw him turning around in the silent room, knowing that the sound he heard was not a flying sound. The complaint is not an insect complaint. Suddenly, he realized that he had lived in a small corner of this world, while the remaining third, fourth and fifth worlds were lying tightly on his stomach, hungry and irretrievable. His panic was also a smell and taste to her. Yes, she had been eager to taste his taste, but it was not their sensual kiss, but his growing panic. She is full: her compassion is all. Her eyes were as horrible as his eyes-their shriveled throats had the same fine prints: "Please-"
Children study. "Please"-win care and gifts.
"please-"
Even the dead, of course, even the dead must know and obey.
"please-"
She knew for sure that there would be no such pity today. These ghosts were distraught on the highway, suffering from the wounds they died and the insanity they slaughtered. They endured his indiscretion and arrogance, his stupidity, and created a game of torture. They want to tell the truth.
Fuller stared at her even more, his face now swimming in the pulsating orange light. She felt his hands on her skin. They tasted the vinegar.
"Are you all right?" he said, his breathing like iron.
She shook her head.
No, she's all right, all right.
The crack grew bigger and bigger every second: through it, she could see another piece of sky, the slate paradise lured on the highway. It overwhelms the authenticity of the house.
"Please," she said, her eyes looking up at the fading material from the ceiling.
Wider. The wider world-the fragile world she lives in has been pulled to its limit.
Suddenly, it burst like a dam, and the black water poured, flooding the entire room.
Fuller knew something was wrong (that was the color of his halo, sudden fear), but he didn't understand what was going on. She felt his spine rippling: she could see his brain spinning.
"What's the matter?" he said. The sadness of inquiry made her want to laugh.
Upstairs, the kettle in the writing room broke.
Fuller let go of her and ran to the door. Even as he approached, it began to rattle, as if all the inhabitants of were beating. The handle turned around. The paint blistered. The key glows red.
Fuller looked back at the doctor, who was still fixed in that weird posture, his head turned back and his eyes widened. He reached for the handle, but the door opened without touching it. The corridor outside disappeared completely. The familiar interior once stood there, and the vista of the highway stretches to the horizon. The sight killed Fuller instantly. His mind has no power to appreciate the panorama-it cannot control the overload on every nerve of his. His heart stopped. A revolution overthrew the order of his system; his bladder failed, his large intestine failed, his limbs were trembling and paralyzed. When he sank to the floor, his face began to foam like a door, and his corpse rattled like a handle. He is already something inert: as good as wood or steel for this insult. Somewhere in the east, his soul joined the injured highway, and Mai Xia knew she was alone. The deceased put his revenge hand on his fresh skin, above this wonderful boy, she was beautiful, and the cheating kid was writhing and screaming. She knew their intention: she could see it in their eyes-nothing new. Every history has this particular torture in its tradition. He will be used to record their will. He will be their book page, their book, their autobiography vessel. A book of blood. A book is made of blood. A book written in blood. She thought of the handcuffs made of dead human skin: she saw them and touched them. She thought of the tattoos she had seen: some of them were on display in the freak show, while others were just shirtless workers on Wall Street, and at the same time conveyed a message piercing their backs to the mothers. It is not uncommon to write a book of blood.
But on such skin, on such shiny skin-my goodness, this is a crime. He screamed when the torture needle of the broken wine glass jumped on his flesh and plowed it up. She felt his pain as if it were her pain, not so terrible.
However he screamed. Fight and poured to his attacker. They did not pay attention. They swarmed around him, turned a deaf ear to any plea or prayer, and treated him with the enthusiasm of being forced into silence for a long time. Mai Xia's voice was exhausted from complaining. As Mai Xia listened, she struggled with the fearful pressure of her limbs. She felt that somehow she had to get up. It doesn't matter what is outside the door or on the stairs-he needs her, that's enough.
She stood up, feeling her hair circling from the top of her head, like the snake hair of Medusa. Realistic swimming-the floor is barely visible below her. The planks of the house are ghostly wood, and above them, a seething darkness roars and yawns at her. She looked at the door and felt a kind of lethargy, which was hard to overcome.
Obviously they don't want her there. She thought, maybe they were even a little afraid of me. This thought made her resolve. Why do they bother her unless her presence has threatened the world, unless her presence has threatened her?
The bubbling door opened. In addition, the reality of the house has completely succumbed to the noise of the highway. She walked over, concentrating on the way her feet still touched the firm floor, even though her eyes couldn't see it. The sky above her was Prussian blue, the highway was wide and windy, and the dead were embarrassed on all sides. She fought against them like they passed through a group of living people, and their dull foolish faces looked at her and hated her invasion.
"Please" is gone. Now she said nothing. Just gritted her teeth, stared at the highway with wide eyes, kicked forward to discover that she knew the real situation of the stairs there. When she touched them, she tripped and the crowd screamed. She couldn't tell whether they were laughing at her clumsiness or warning herself how far they had gone.
first step. The second step. third step.
Although she was torn from all sides, she still won the crowd. In the front, she could see the door of the room, her little liar was surrounded by his attackers. His underwear was wrapped around his ankle: the scene looked like a rape. He no longer screamed, but his eyes were full of fear and pain. At least he is still alive. Half of his young mind's natural adaptability has accepted the spectacle before him. Suddenly his head turned, and he looked straight at her door. In this extreme, he unblocked a real talent, this skill is only a small part of Mai Xia, but it is enough to get in touch with her. Their eyes met. In a dark ocean, there are civilizations that they neither understand nor understand, and they meet and get married in their hearts.
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