narrow red

The first time Kuangzheng saw Baochan, what he remembered was the narrow streak of carmine between his brows and forehead.

It was midsummer, the sky was high, clouds were flowing, cicadas were singing, and the huge city was crawling in the hustle and bustle of the heat. Kuang was waiting for the signal at the intersection. He was driving a Porsche Panamera. The red flashes, the car is like a person.

He was wearing a Montblanc chronograph and took a look. It was ten past ten o'clock. The car was very air-conditioned and filled with a faint smell of aftershave. Then he touched his right neck.

The shirt was newly made in a high-end shop run by a Taiwanese in Zoumawan. The collar was a little high, with a vintage tone, and it was stuffed with a sterling silver collar stay with his name engraved on it.

The skin around the neckline was a little sore, and there was a small wound there.

When he was shaving this morning, he lost his mind and saw blood on the blade, "Shoot!" It is the conceit of piles of banknotes.

It's not a good day, Kuang Zheng thought, put in gear and drove through the intersection leading to the old city, while studying the street signs, he found the address from his mobile phone: No. 106-56, Lane 2, Baishi Road, Nanshan District.

He slowly turned the steering wheel and shuttled through the obviously old streets. This place is close to the city center, but unlike the commercial district full of high-rise buildings, the breath of Nanshan is sluggish, with the musty smell of the old era. It is a red brick house from the Japanese occupation period, and there are also forgotten former residences of celebrities, many of which are municipal cultural relic protection units. It is foreseeable that this half-dead look will remain here in the next ten years.

Kuang Zheng walked through the long and narrow alley and stopped by a small ditch formed by a burst water pipe.

56-2 is a small two-story building. There is a cracked five-pointed star on the south wall of the building. It is a typical building in the 50s. There is a vertical sign hanging on the dark gate, and the paint is peeling off. It's a theater company.

He entered the door, and there was a corridor on the left and right, because the doors of the house were all closed, there was no light in the corridor, and the stringed sound of erhu or the like could be heard from upstairs, intermittently, and some people were talking loudly.

The old-fashioned staircase is facing the gate, and when you walk up, the sound of the huqin becomes harsh. There is an open door in the corridor on the left, and the sunlight from the window passes through the room, splashing an inch of snow on the concrete floor in front of the door.

Kuang Zheng stepped over, stepped into the halo, and then froze.

The room is not big, there is a person leaning on the old sofa in the middle, the brown-red leather surface of the sofa is white and cracked, the person is wrapped in brocade silk, and the thick-soled boots are on the small coffee table, looking towards the door.

Kuang Zheng couldn't help but look at him, the man's eye sockets were full of rouge, there was a narrow line of red between his eyebrows, which reached straight to his forehead, a long hair was tied on top of his head, and it was hung over his shoulders, his shoulders were loose She was wearing a black satin cloak, embroidered with colorful clouds and flying cranes, the inside was lake blue, and embroidered with lotus flowers all over, reflecting each other's beauty inside and out.

Right above him, there is a nave hanging on the mottled wall, with the words "Smoky Waves Refreshing" written in thick ink.

This is another masculine color that is completely different from a suit and tie.Kuang Zheng looked straight at those rouge eyes, he had never seen such wonderful eyes, like moonlight flowing in them, and like a fierce tiger looking back lonely under the moonlight in the deep mountains.

Someone in the corridor shouted: "Hey, who are you looking for?"

Kuang Zheng turned around, and there was a man standing far away, with a bald head and a long knife for performance in his hand.

"I'm... looking for a Mr. Duan." Kuangzheng went over bravely, leaving a beautiful afterimage in his mind, and a narrow red like a small sword.

"We don't have anyone with the surname Duan here." The bald man gestured at him with a knife.

What did Kuangzheng want to say, a door beside him was opened from the inside, behind the door was a young man with a face that was too beautiful, his eyes were like a knife, he quickly scratched Kuangzheng once.

"Come in," said the young man, not loudly, but nicely.

Kuang Zheng followed him into the house, closed the door, and there were rows of costumes in front of him, and the wind blowing in from the window made a bunch of pink dresses blow up.

"You don't look like a lawyer," said the young man.

He looks 25 or six years old, with clean short hair, wearing a black dress with a strong sense of design, and cheap Roman-style sandals on his feet, finding a delicate balance between yin and yang.

"You are Mr. Duan?" Kuang Zheng confirmed to him.

The young man didn't answer, but continued to guess his identity: "You don't look like a wealth consultant, you are dressed like this..." He glanced at the straight tie, which was very eye-catching, "It looks like an investment bank."

He was right, and Kuang Zheng took out his business card: "Mergers and acquisitions."

The young man took the business card without looking at it, tore it up and threw it out the window: "Did my dad ask you to come?"

The rhythm of the conversation was completely controlled by this kid. Kuangzheng picked up a wooden chair, the kind in the 90s, poked it in front of him, unbuttoned his suit and sat down: "I don't know your father, my boss asked me to drop by A word, Mr. Duan, your father wants you to go home."

The young man leaned against the table, lowered his head and brushed a glass top flower, without making a sound.

Kuang Zheng is the VP of the Investment Banking Department of Wanrong Bank. This position is called Vice President, but he is actually the general manager in charge of a certain business. The boss he mentioned is Bai Yinwu, the boss of the company's investment banking department and the managing director.

"Okay, I see," said the kid in the skirt.

Kuang Zheng stood up from the broken chair: "Then I will see Mr. Duan off."

The young man turned his back impatiently: "The message is over, it's none of your business."

Kuangzheng hadn't been humiliated like this for many years, and his tone hardened: "The boss asked me to 'send a message', but it wasn't really just a message."

It's about getting things done.The young man half turned around, mocking as if he was watching a show: "Oh, I'm really sorry, I haven't been home for seven or eight years, and I don't plan to go back."

"Do you know how many VPs there are in Wan Rong's investment banking department?" Kuang Zheng, who is 1.8 meters five, looked down at him, "My boss picked me because he thought I was better than others. I have to prove his judgment."

"Then do you know how many lawyers, wealth consultants, and professional public relations my dad finds to bother me every year?" The handsome boy is not tall, but he is not weak, "None of them succeed."

Kuang Zheng squinted his eyes, and looked at the gorgeous dress behind him: "Like wearing women's clothing?" He deliberately snarled, "Can't quit, and the family won't let it?" Then he showed the unique bitterness of an investment banker, " Because this one was beaten by your father and dare not go home?"

As expected of an opera singer, the young man's apricot-like eyes were as bright as nails: "How dare you..."

Suddenly there were two knocks on the door, and shouts from outside: "Xiao Nong! Come quickly, the treasure house has fallen!" followed by chaotic footsteps.

The young man's gaze flashed past Kuang Zheng, and he immediately opened the door to go out. Kuang Zheng then turned around, and before going out, he saw an old photo on the wall next to the door that was enlarged and somewhat blurred. There is a line of fine print: Young Peking Opera actor Ying Xiaonong participated in the training of the Southern Kunqu Opera Troupe in Suzhou, hereby as a souvenir.

Kuang Zheng flicked the peach cheek powder noodles in the photo, and walked out. It was the room of "Yanbo Zhishuang" just now, and the few people from the small theater troupe were all crowded in it.

The man who fell down was the man who looked like a tiger in the moonlight, still wearing makeup, and his tightly wrapped white collar was already drenched with sweat.

"Baochu! What's wrong, wake up!" Everyone surrounded him, shouting anxiously, Kuangzheng didn't understand the word "Chu", it didn't look like a name, and it couldn't be a job title.

"Fuck your head!" Ying Xiaonong said, someone immediately held the man's temples, and with a stroke of both hands, the water gauze and net were all removed, revealing short black hair, water dripping on the bright red eyebrows and eyes.

"It should be in shock." A tall and neat man dragged him into his arms, and stroked his chest one by one. "Today, I lost more than a dozen hairs to that big boss, and turned over twenty backs in a row. , and also sang, no one can stand it."

"Then the fuck didn't you invest a penny in our group!"

"Let me tell you, rich people are fools. If we are sure, let's wait for money and try to misbehave..."

"That's enough, don't make any noise!" Ying Xiaonong roared, it seemed that he was used to making up his mind here, and said to the tall man, "When you were old, you went to call a car, and I accompanied you to the hospital."

The tall man handed the person into his hand, and Kuangzheng squeezed in at this time. Under the surprised eyes of everyone, he pulled out the tie pin and loosened the neckline, grabbed the colorful cloud flying crane cloak that looked like a feather coat, and turned around. body, and put the man on his back.

Ying Xiaonong became angry: "What are you doing, put it down!"

Kuang Zheng walked out without saying a word: "Stop talking nonsense, my car is outside, and I will rush to the nearest hospital in 10 minutes."

Ying Xiaonong came to his senses and ran after him, but Shi Kuoting grabbed him: "Who is that?"

"Don't worry about it," Ying Xiaonong said anxiously, "The treasure house is important, I'll leave it to you at home."

Shi Kuoting counted the money in his clothes and trousers, took out all the money and stuffed it into his hands, and said in a low voice, "Don't worry."

Kuang Zheng went straight to the Panamera by the ditch with his back on his back. It was hot, and the troupe had no air conditioner. He was carrying an old man on his back, and his newly made shirt was completely washed with sweat.He opened the car door, and the person on his back suddenly moved, and the hands in front of him slowly closed, like an unconscious hug, wrapping around his neck from behind.

Kuang Zheng was stunned for a moment, and then, the wound on his neck was rubbed open, and hot sweat shot up, stinging.

Stepped on gas and reached the Second People's Hospital, Ying Xiaonong got out of the car with someone on his back, and before closing the car door, he swept his eyebrows and drooped his eyes and said, "Thank you."

Kuang Zheng ignored him, took a look at his suit that had been stained with paint, and called the boss: "Old Bai." When he got connected, he said straight away, "I can't get it done."

"Understood." After Bai Yinwu finished speaking, there was a clear and crisp hitting sound.

Kuang Zheng knew that he was playing golf with a client, so he started the car: "That's it."

"Hey, two things," Bai Yinwu continued, "Last time you did a good job with Lianyun Chemical. I bought a villa from the company for you, and another one," he lowered his voice, "I will be able to free up one soon." executive vice president position."

Kuang Zheng slammed on the brakes, and the Panamera landed in front of the hospital.