There was a loud noise.
The bulletproof entire oak door was kicked to pieces by Bo Jinshen's belly full of fire.
The door lock parts were mixed with wood chips and smashed into the room like a torrential rain.
There was a person standing at the door, against the light, no different from just returning from the Hall of Hell.
The haute couture suit on Bo Jinshen's body was wrinkled, and at first glance, it flew overnight and I didn't know how far it was.
The tie was pulled to the side by him, exposing the cold and hard collarbone.
His hair was messy, and his eyes were full of irritable bloodshots, scaryly red, as if he was about to burn the whole world.
He was stumped in business.
planted a big somersault.
Now, he urgently needs a punching bag.
One that allows him to pour all his anger, all his out-of-control, into it... Trash can.
Su Wan is that trash can.
She also maintained the posture of lying on the ground after hiding the drawing.
The loud noise made her head buzz, and the blood all over her body was cold.
She froze in place, forgetting to breathe, and just looked at the crazy beast, stepping on the rags on the ground, and walking into her cage step by step.
Bo Jinshen didn't do it right away.
His burning eyes scanned the dimly lit room with great oppression.
That look, like a knife, scraped every corner of the room inch by inch, as if looking for something.
Find the source that irritates him and makes him lose control.
Finally, his gaze was nailed to the white figure curled up and trembling on the ground.
"You," he finally spoke, his voice hoarse as if it had been polished by sandpaper, and every word had a bloody smell, "What are you afraid of? "
Su Wan's heartbeat stopped suddenly.
She opened her mouth, unable to spit out a word, and her throat was filled with lead.
Her fear is the best to add fuel to the fire.
"Don't say it?"
Bo Jinshen rolled out of his throat with a very light, poisonous laugh.
He didn't ask any more, but started pacing in the room.
That posture is like a lion locked in a cage and about to go crazy.
"Bang!"
He kicked over Lu Qingyue's favorite white round table, and the water cup plate on it shattered to the ground.
"Wow—"
He tore off the huge lace-embellished curtain, and the fabric was piled up on the ground like a dirty shroud.
"It's this damn smell again!"
With a wave of his arm, all the "white moonlight" perfume skin care products on the dressing table were swept to the ground, the glass bottle exploded, and the cold gardenia fragrance mixed with the smell of alcohol and hostility on his body, which made people want to vomit.
Su Wan curled up in the corner and watched him go crazy.
Watching him turn this pure white mausoleum that belonged to Lu Qingyue into a real garbage dump little by little.
She was shaking violently.
But deep in my heart, strangely, there was a hint of revenge.
Smash it.
It's better to ruin it.
It would be better to destroy all these things that did not belong to her and were false.
Bo Jinshen's destruction stopped next to the bed.
His eyes fell on the European-style bed that looked flat and clean.
His eyes froze.
Then, he walked slowly.
He stretched out his hand and slid gently over the top silk sheet.
His hand stopped on the edge of the mattress.
The subtle crack that Su Wan hid all the secrets and touched countless times.
Su Wan's breathing stopped.
Bo Jinshen lowered his head and looked at the barely visible slit.
Then, he laughed.
That smile was cold, penetrating everything, like a demon.
He didn't tear it with his hands.
Instead, from the pocket of his trousers, he took out a small and sharp Swiss Army knife.
"Oh-"
The blade popped out and mercilessly cut open the expensive mattress, as if disemboweling its prey.
Cotton wool and filler gushed out.
He reached in and accurately pulled out the cardboard box that Su Wan regarded as his life.
Finished.
Su Wan's eyes darkened.
The whole world instantly lost its sound.
Bo Jinshen took the dusty paper box and stood up straight.
He didn't rush to open it, but walked to the only surviving chair in the room and sat down.
He adjusted his comfortable posture, like an audience member who was about to watch a good show, and then slowly opened the box.
A thick stack of cardboard with lines appeared before his eyes.
He picked up the top one.
It is the heart that is entangled in thorns - the "heart of thorns".
"Heh..."
He chuckled, held the painting in front of him, and looked at it almost appreciatively.
"It's a bit interesting. A heart entangled in thorns... Su Wan, are you scolding me? "
For the first time, he called her full name.
But on this occasion.
"Do you think that I am hurting you by locking you up?"
He turned his head, and his dark eyes were full of condescending and cruel "teachings".
"You should feel honored. Pain is a fake, the only thing that can prove the value of being 'alive'. "
He picked up the second one.
It was the split crescent moon - "broken moonlight".
"Oh? The moon is broken, and you still want the stars to shine? "
His fingertips gently ran over the small five-pointed star, as if he wanted to completely twist the light into powder.
"Naive."
"Do you know why the stars are bright?"
"Because it's far enough. When you get closer, it is a pathetic stone that burns itself. "
"Just like you."
He didn't give Su Wan a chance to breathe, so he picked up the third one.
The canary whose mouth was sewn with gold thread – "silent scream".
This time, he even had a look of admiration on his face.
"This ... I like it the most. "
He smiled and brought the painting in front of Su Wan, forcing her to see the despair in his pen.
"Look, how beautiful. A canary kept in a cage has the most beautiful feathers and the most graceful posture, but it is clear that it does not deserve to make a sound. Its value is to stay there quietly and please its owner. "
"This is a perfect, qualified work of art."
He one and another.
The spiritual sustenance that Su Wan poured out with blood, tears and hatred, one by one, took it out, and used the most poisonous words to publicly Ling Chi.
Finally, his hand reached out to the one hidden at the bottom, which was also the one she cherished the most.
The one painted with her own blood - "Mourning Song".
He saw the crown of thorns, the empty birdcage.
In the end, the eyes were fixed on the butterfly whose wings were broken and its body was pierced, but it was still flying in blood.
The smile on his face was distorted to the extreme.
"Butterfly ..."
He stood up, walked step by step to Su Wan, who was ashen-faced, squatted down, and held the painting in front of her.
"Want wings?"
His voice was extremely low, like a lover's murmur, but he spat out the most cruel words in the world.
"I spent so much money, used so many people, and tailor-made this most expensive golden cage in the world for you, you... You still want to fly? "
"How can you, don't like it?"
His fingers slid coldly across Su Wan's cheeks, moving lightly as if he was comforting a pet.
"It's okay."
"You want wings, I can give them to you."
He grinned, revealing a row of white teeth, like a shark about to bite the throat of its prey.
"Then, it's up to me... With your own hands, break it one by one. "
After he finished speaking, he stood up.
He looked around the dilapidated house, his eyes on the fireplace in the corner that had long been extinguished.
He took out his mobile phone and dialed the inside line.
"Uncle Chen, come to the second floor. Light the fireplace. "
The tone is calm, but there is no refusal.
"Use the best fruit charcoal to burn it a little more."
A few minutes later, Uncle Chen came.
He saw this apocalyptic scene in the room, Su Wan, who was described as withered in the corner, and the stack of paintings in Bo Jinshen's hand, his face was pale, but he didn't dare to say a word.
He could only bow his head, be silent, put the charcoal into the fireplace and light it.
Phew——
The flames licked the charcoal and ignited quickly.
The orange-red flames jumped and crackled in the fireplace, reflecting the messy room in light and dark.
It also illuminated Bo Jinshen's face that was colder than a ghost.
He walked to the fireplace, felt the temperature of the flames, and had a satisfied expression on his face.
Then, he turned around, and in front of Su Wan, he threw the first draft in his hand, "Heart of Thorns", into the fire.
"No..."
Su Wan's throat finally squeezed out a broken syllable.
She wanted to rush over, to snatch it back.
But the body seemed to be nailed to the ground and could not move.
She could only watch as the heart wrapped in thorns quickly curled and turned black in the flames, and finally, turned into a wisp of black ash.
"Look, how beautiful."
Bo Jinshen chuckled and picked up the second one, "Broken Moonlight".
"Light was originally meant to be broken."
He let go of his hand and let the moon and the star fall into the fire together.
Then, there was the third, "Silent Scream".
The fourth ...
The fifth ...
He was like a graceful priest, performing a sacred ceremony.
And all Su Wan's pain, struggles, and cries were his sacrifices to the flames.
Su Wan's eyes stared at the fire.
The fire, in her empty pupils, beat violently.
She didn't say anything more.
No crying, no begging for mercy.
She just watched.
It seems to be burned, not the cardboard.
It is her bones, her flesh and blood, her internal organs, her soul.
When the last one, the "mourning song" with bloody butterflies, was pinched by Bo Jinshen at his fingertips, he paused.
He turned his head and glanced at Su Wan one last time, as if expecting her collapse and her begging for mercy.
But he was disappointed.
The girl just sat there on her knees, like a lifeless stone statue.
On the face, there is no expression.
In my eyes, I could no longer see anything except the fire.
The smile on the corner of Bo Jinshen's mouth slowly subsided.
An inexplicable irritability surged into my heart.
He snorted coldly, no longer hesitated, and let go of his hand.
The butterfly with broken wings, like a blood-colored fallen leaf, threw itself into the embrace of the flames without hesitation.
The paper curled instantly, and the solidified blood stains turned into a dazzling charred black under the high temperature.
The bloody butterfly, along with the light it longed for, was burned into nothingness.
The last trace of sparks in the fireplace was also extinguished.
Su Wan's funeral is over.
She was still kneeling there, motionless.
Bo Jinshen looked at her dead man condescendingly, and the sense of irritability became stronger and stronger.
He snorted coldly, turned around, and strode away.
Bang!
The broken door was pulled up by him, and there was another loud noise.
The world is back to darkness.
Return to the silence of death.
Only in the fireplace, there was still a faint residual heat with a destructive smell.
Su Wan slowly, slowly, raised his head.
She looked in the direction of the fireplace.
In that ash, there was something that seemed different.
The flames burned her paintings, burned her dreams, burned her pain and struggle.
He also burned the things in her bones called "fear", "weakness", and "fantasy".
Under the ashes, something is breaking through the ground.
It was something harder than hatred and colder than despair.
In the darkness that no one could see, in the depths of her dead eyes, the two clusters of light that had been reflected by the flames did not go out.
They just settled.
Condensed into two points that were colder than ten thousand years of black ice... Stuff.