Quick Wear: But I just want to be a little transparent

Chapter 42 The Thief's Professionalism 9

Since the tutoring class ended that day, Song Xun didn't see Zhang Weisheng come over for the next two days.

Later, I learned from Zhou Wan that Zhang Weisheng would only come twice a week, and the next visit would be a day later.

Song Xun was still full of fighting spirit. Although he had no results last time, he at least managed to touch Zhang Weisheng's pocket again. He believed that he would succeed after some time.

996 feels very gratified that even its own brainwashing was not so successful.

Just as Songxun was waiting expectantly.

Successfully missed the day to meet Zhang Weisheng.

Zhang Weisheng still came five minutes early and took Zhou Wan upstairs. The two-hour tutoring session was quiet and undisturbed.

The red fountain pen was spinning at his fingertips. Zhang Weisheng seemed to be thinking of something distracted. The fountain pen fell from his fingertips onto the table, finally rolling to the edge of the table and falling to the ground with a plop.

Zhang Weisheng came to his senses and realized what was missing.

He picked up the pen from the ground and asked casually, "Didn't Xiaoqi come today?"

In fact, he was somewhat dissatisfied with the name, as if it came out of his mouth with a certain intimacy.

Zhou Wan stopped writing, curled his lips and looked a little confused: "He is never late. I don't know why he hasn't come yet today."

"Is he safe?" Zhou Wan muttered to himself, "I don't know where he lives."

"It was so scary when he came over. He collapsed at the door of the store. My mother thought he was dead. Later we found out that he fainted from hunger."

Zhang Weisheng looked indifferent, as if he didn't care about anything. Zhou Wan stopped himself from saying anything else, and suddenly remembered that Brother Sheng didn't like gossip.

He stopped talking, but unexpectedly Zhang Weisheng suddenly asked: "Do you know his full name?"

Zhou Wan shook his head: "His name is Xiao Qi, I haven't heard of his last name."

In the afternoon, Zhang Weisheng simply cooked a bowl of noodles at home, took on some PPT making and translation work, and spent the rest of the time at home.

Compared to getting paid according to stipulated hours, part-time work is not as stable, but as long as you ensure the quality and know how to maintain it, you can make money much faster.

As I was busy, the sky outside the window darkened.

Zhang Weisheng pinched his neck and checked the time.

Eight twenty.

He stood up and opened the refrigerator. The vegetables were bought yesterday and were enough for the next two days.

It started raining outside again, splashing on the glass, making a noisy sound that made people feel annoyed.

Zhang Weisheng closed the refrigerator, picked up an umbrella and opened the door.

The alley was dark and slippery. Every household stayed at home on rainy days, and there were few people on the streets.

Zhang Weisheng had a clear goal. He walked straight to the small shabby house at the corner and raised his hand to knock on the door.

There was no movement inside.

He tilted the umbrella back and broke through the door easily.

The room was small, just big enough for a folding camp bed, on which lay a curled-up teenager with a flushed face and a furrowed brow.

He looked sick, with his arms folded around himself, his body still shaking slightly.

Like a poor creature abandoned outside.

Zhang Weisheng bent down and picked him up. He was so light that he looked like some kind of hollow foam box, totally inconsistent with the weight of a man.

The sudden suspension in the air made Song Xun regain consciousness briefly. His half-open eyes were dazed and at a loss, as if he didn't know what was going on.

Song Xun, who had just opened his eyes, was handed an umbrella. Someone said, "Hold it."

Song Xun held the umbrella handle in a daze. He didn't have much strength, and just managed to keep from dropping the thing that was suddenly stuffed into his hand.

In the narrow, lightless alley, the black umbrellas swayed, occasionally revealing the people inside. One person was held horizontally in someone's arms, while the other walked steadily and resolutely forward against the rain, fog and slanting wind.

Song Xun felt very hot for a while, as if he was a kettle about to boil, and then he felt cold, as if ice was filled in his bones and his teeth were chattering from the cold.

In this uncomfortable state, the body seemed to be stuffed into a soft quilt, the sticky body caused by sweating was wiped by a towel, and a cool breeze was poured into the smoking throat.

Song Xun drank the water greedily, making gurgling sounds of satisfaction.

It was like a dry sapling welcoming the sweet dew, its branches and leaves stretched out again, dancing happily.

It rained all night, but the sun was shining brightly the next day.

People come and go in the old tube-shaped building, and the sounds of brushing teeth, washing, cooking rice and talking continue non-stop.

Song Xun was in a semi-awake state, still remembering that he had to go to the store early today to wait for Zhang Weisheng. However, the soft bed beneath him was too comfortable. It was no longer a folding bed supported by an iron frame, which would make his waist and back uncomfortable. However, he did not have to worry about falling down if he turned over slightly, and could roll around freely.

The comfort is about to melt away.

Song Xun pursed his lips, curled up happily and did not fall down.

——How come he didn’t fall?!

He suddenly opened his eyes and sat up in bed.

Everything I saw was an unfamiliar scene. The room was not big. Apart from the bed, there was only room for a computer desk and a wardrobe, but it was very clean and tidy.

Song Xun quickly got out of bed, ran to the door barefoot, pushed it, but couldn't open it.

I turned the door handle, but it still wouldn't open.

The hairs on Song Xun's body stood up, his mind was in a mess, and finally his focus was on the criminal gangs that had just come to this world.

When the police were on their way, several people who had received the news in advance had already escaped.

Song Xun was at a loss. He thought that they might have already known who leaked the information and kidnapped him for revenge.

No one would not panic if they woke up and moved directly to another place while being locked inside.

Song Xun let out a breath and forced himself to calm down. He was not sure if there was anyone outside.

I looked around the room and found that the window could be opened, but this was the fifth floor and the chances of breaking bones or becoming disabled were very high if I fell down.

Song Xun stood by the window and pondered for a long time, then gave up the idea.

After searching once, he removed the stick from the mop and squatted behind the door, ready for action.

Time passed minute by minute, and after an unknown amount of time, footsteps were heard outside the door.

Song Xun gripped the stick tightly, his fingertips turning white.

The moment the door opened, he raised his hand and hit.

The stick almost became an afterimage. Zhang Weisheng reacted quickly, sensed the danger strongly, and dodged suddenly.

The porridge in his hand was not spared, and the bowl fell to the ground.

The broken pieces of porcelain fell sharply to the ground, along with the sticky porridge.

Song Xun tried to rush forward, but the back of his neck was grabbed by a big hand, which was as easy to subdue as a kitten or puppy.

Song Xun, who was handcuffed by the neck, couldn't raise his head, so he buried his head and arched it forward, bumping into the man, waving the stick in his hand wildly.

But soon, the stick was blocked from the other end, and a cold and impatient voice sounded from above: "What are you doing?"

This voice... is a bit familiar.

Song Xun then looked up, and was stunned when he saw the person outside the door.