() "Oh, Chen Xiang, Chen Xiang, what should you tell me to say to you? If I take it easy, I will fight in the street, and you will still be a minor. If you really want to fight, I can fight with you."

, what are you doing?"

Captain Hu, whom I hadn't seen for a long time, looked at me through the iron fence and felt sad for a while.

"Please, boss, if you don't believe me, I'll hang myself. It's obvious that they took out my wallet, so I've already tolerated it."

I shouted that I was wronged, and my handcuffs and shackles, which were so heavy with my movements, made a loud noise, causing the police officers around me to nervously pull out their guns.

What the hell, I can’t transform into Ultraman.

"The problem is that what everyone sees is your 'generous act'. Videos, confessions, certifications, and physical evidence are all available, and the victim is still in a deep coma, which intuitively shows that you have committed serious acts of violence. The instructor and I

After talking about it for a long time, people still don’t believe it.”

Captain Hu scratched his hair as if his head was itching.

"I will negotiate with the instructor again to see if we can get you released on bail. Please calm down next time."

Captain Hu sighed, grabbed the hat beside him and left.

The result was unlucky. The police insisted on detaining me for the full fifteen days on the grounds that the impact was too bad. No matter what the two officers said, it was of no use.

Fifteen days? Come on, it’s less than a month before we have to simulate the battle on a real machine. I’m not even familiar with the machine yet. Wouldn’t I just lose it after half a month?

I had no choice but to register, get my number plate and bedding, and go to my cell with the prison guards who looked like gangsters.

My cell is very deep, in the deepest corner of the prison. There are no lights, no one, even the camera is tilted to the side and there is no movement. It is dark and depressing, and there is not even much air flow. To be honest, when I go there

My first reaction was that this guy either wanted to make money and kill himself, or he definitely wanted to kill him and make money.

But the strange thing is that the jailer stood in front of the iron door and did not go in directly. Instead, he knocked on the door respectfully twice before unlocking it.

To be honest, the first time you enter the cell, you feel very nervous, ten times more nervous than entering the women's dormitory, because you can't imagine what kind of top-quality goods are waiting for you inside, and this ghost place is so weird...

Is he a perverted murderer with countless lives, a vicious gangster, a cruel and violent gang leader, or simply... a "good comrade" with that hobby? Damn it!

I vowed that if it was the last option, I would risk my life and spend a few more years in prison to beat him to death.

After adjusting my belt, I mustered up the courage to walk in with the jailer, only to be turned around and cursed by the guy:

"Stop idiot, didn't anyone teach you that you have to take off your shoes when entering Mr. Polkarev's room?!"

Damn, who knows how to teach this kind of thing? Why do you have to go to so much trouble to get into the cell?

Depressed, I knelt down and untied my military boots, then threw the one kilogram worth of leather products into the shoe cabinet, filling the small space to the brim, only to receive another scolding.

"Are you a fucking idiot? Who told you to leave it there? Outsiders can just leave it at the door..."

"Okay, Mr. Anthony, don't bother me so much. If you need anything, just come in and talk."

A calm male voice came from the depths of the cell. It seemed that it could only be uttered by an old man in his sixties, which made me feel a little more at ease.

Only then did I notice that this cell had been renovated. The place I came in was like a home entrance. Although the layout was simple, it was still elegant. If I hadn't walked all the way, I might have mistakenly thought I had broken in.

It's a private house in Liaomojian. The main room of the cell is separated from the inside by a homemade brown wooden door, so it's hard to see what's inside.

Let me go, is this the legendary VIP cell reserved for the powerful?

The jailer responded respectfully, glared at me, led me further inside, and knocked on the door twice while trying to control his strength. After receiving permission, he carefully opened it.

What appeared in front of me was a small room of about twenty square meters. The floor was covered with soft South Asian handmade carpets. The surrounding walls were redecorated with handmade lacquered boards and hung with oil paintings of unknown meaning.

On the roof is a bronze chandelier that exudes a classical atmosphere, swaying slightly with the air flowing in from the vent.

An old man over sixty years old was sitting upright on the sofa, with a black tea quilt at hand and a "virtual remote sensing device" similar to glasses on the bridge of his nose. He tapped the void with his index finger, paused slightly from time to time, and then

Nod or shake your head slightly and continue the previous action.

I don't know why, but the luxurious word "noble" jumped out of my mind in an instant.

"Hello, Mr. Polkarev, I'm very sorry to interrupt your lunch break."

The prison guard said it respectfully and even flatteringly, making the person sitting opposite him look like his father.

"You are too polite, Mr. Anthony. You are the administrator here. If work requires you, you can come at any time without any interruption."

The old man stretched out his hands that were as dry as a dying branch, and took off the device on the bridge of his nose, revealing a face that was weathered, but it revealed a look that could only be found after years of carving, as different as the works of art from the old century.

An ordinary, luxurious face.

It doesn't matter if you say this. The jailer was so frightened that he could hardly stand up straight. He nodded and bowed like a semi-automatic robot:

"No, no, no, Mr. Polkarev, no one here dares to be so rude to you, but it's a little difficult to come here today," the prison guard glanced at me and continued, "We just took in a detainee today, but

All the cells are almost full and can’t be filled, so... So we want to leave this guy with you for a while, oh, don’t worry, we will get him out in a few days, and this guy too

He's not a particularly bad prisoner and won't bother you for too long."

"Mr. Anthony, what you said is too serious. This cell is originally the asset of your prison. I am just a tenant here. It is understandable that you arrange the personnel.

Polkarev smiled gracefully, but I noticed that his eyes were not smiling at all, they were still as cold as water.

As if he had begged for a bone from his master, the prison guard said "yes" a few times with a flattered expression on his face, then changed his face to a ferocious expression like a mad dog and glared at me.

"Be careful, kid. If you mess up, I'll kill you."

After leaving a threatening word, the jailer nodded and bowed out, leaving me and the old man face to face. I felt that the old man's eyes seemed to be looking at me up and down, but I was too lazy to pay attention to this normal reaction.

"Where is my bed?"

"There is a hard bed in the corner, but it hasn't been used for a long time. I suggest you clean it up."

Polkarev said calmly, his eyes still fixed on me.

As if to get rid of the uncomfortable line, I picked up the heavy bag and threw it on the hard bed he mentioned, causing dust to fly everywhere. Sure enough, as this guy said, it had been a long time.

I've slept with someone.

"Can I ask where there is water? A rag or something."

"It's right next door. Except for the ones I hung on the rack, you can use them as you like."

There was a trace of dissatisfaction in the old man's calm voice, as if a snake was swimming under the water.

He seemed a little unhappy.

But come on, I haven't messed with him yet. Could it be that this guy has disliked me since he walked in? What the hell is going on today? I rarely want to be a good citizen, so why are all of them coming to my door to die!

I thought about it and took out a towel from the bathroom, which was decorated like a middle-class residence. I soaked it in water and wrung it out, then lay on the bed and started fucking. I felt that the old man was still staring at me from a distance.

, I picked up the teacup in the middle and tried it several times but finally didn’t drink it. I sighed and stood up and walked slowly behind me.

At first I thought that this old man wanted to practice alone with me, but I soon discovered that something was wrong, because he just stood one step away from me without moving or making a sound, and he was still changing his angle from left to right.

Keep looking at something.

Could it be that...this old ghost wants to poke me in the butt?!

I was so stimulated by this absurd idea that my scalp almost exploded. I swallowed and slowly turned my head, forcing out a smile that was uglier than crying.

"Um, what's the matter?"

The old man was silent, as if all his words were integrated into this action.

After a long time, he sighed and said:

"Young man, your crotch zipper is not unzipped."

Holy shit!

I jumped up in surprise and hurriedly glanced down, and sure enough I found that my "big front door" was open, giving a clear view of the scene inside.

But wait, what is this?

"From now on...it's because of this."

I asked stammeringly.

Polkarev nodded solemnly.

I felt like I almost fainted. This man paid too much attention to details, but if you think about it, most of the people who can decorate their cells like this while in prison have something wrong with their brains.

"Remember young man, no matter where you go, you must pay attention to details, otherwise you will be in bad luck."

The old man lectured.

"There is an old saying in the East that 'to achieve great things, do not stick to trivial matters'..."

I am still being stubborn and unwilling to accept soft words.

"Are you doing something big?"

The old man stared at me coldly, and his camera-like gaze made me feel weak.

So I shook my head honestly.

"Then let's start from the small details."

After the old man finished speaking, he snorted and returned to the sofa to recuperate, holding his hands behind his back.

My face was very hot, so I immediately zipped up the zipper as quickly as possible. I almost got my skin stuck because I started too quickly. Anyway, since then I have fallen into a habit that I don’t know if it’s good or bad: lowering my head from time to time.
Chapter completed!