Play extreme high-quality life sodu

  In Zhang Shidong's eyes, there is form.

  There was a sound in the old policeman's ear.

  In the early market, countless thieves existed, they were ghosts, souls in the crowd, reflected in Zhang Shidong's eyes, so dazzling.

  Relying on his eyes, Zhang Shidong couldn't find the person who poisoned Ai Yuejin, so he came to ask for advice from the master of the secluded mountain forest.

  Close your eyes and listen to the sounds around you with your ears. Noisy, there are hawkers' calls, bargaining voices, chatting voices, object collision sounds, footsteps, friction sounds, eating and drinking sounds...

  The ghost's voice, where is it?

  "Can you hear my footsteps and breathing?" The old policeman finished his breakfast, patted his butt to signal the boss to find Zhang Shidong to settle the bill.

  A stingy person who wouldn't spend a single penny, yet is willing to impart invaluable experience for the price of a breakfast to Zhang Shidong. A extremely frugal person must be an extremely generous person.

  Zhang Shidong wandered from the early market to the late market, with fewer people buying, the vendors' calls grew louder, and a mixture of strange smells wafted up from the ground, everyone's footsteps began to quicken, it was time to head home after shopping; breathing became urgent, the remaining goods had to be quickly shaken clean.

  A pickpocket had a poor morning's business and reached into an old woman's pocket, where there were only thirty or so cents.

  Huh?

  The footsteps have lightened up, but they haven't disappeared.

  The sound of breathing? Stopped, not gone, but held back.

  This is not difficult, what's difficult is before that. What kind of footsteps and breathing rhythm did this thief have?

  The bustling and noisy fifth day of the Lunar New Year is destined to be quiet. Before 2 pm, the streets were crowded with cars and people, but after 2 pm, the firecrackers sounded throughout the city, and there were few vehicles on the streets, and even fewer pedestrians.

  Zhang Shidong wandered on the streets of Shanghai, like a ghostly figure, his eyes completely unfocused, out of place in this world. The world in his eyes was slowly changing.

  One. Two, three... countless individuals, tens of thousands of changes.

  As night fell, the sound of firecrackers came and went, Zhang Shidong gradually grasped the pulse, not by reading a million books to summarize their commonalities, but by finding a rhythm in several thousand books.

  The cry of the ghost was like this originally.

  What is seen with the eyes and heard with the ears mixed together is a ghostly howl, rather than simply relying on the ears to listen.

  Zhang Shidong smiled and got in the car. Closing his eyes, the car's audio system turned on, blasting loud DJ music that filled the entire space inside the vehicle. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel as he sat for over an hour amidst the noisy fast-paced music. Suddenly opening his eyes wide, he quickly started the car and stepped on the accelerator to head towards the nearest crime scene.

  Traces exist only when there is existence. All tracking is based on existence as the fundamental pursuit.

  The master's eyes are no longer good, and the ghostly cries he hears have also changed. Zhang Shidong's eyes are very good, so his achievements will surpass those of a master whose eyes are no longer good and can go further.

  The definition of a trace is existence, narrowly defined, sometimes, no trace at all is the real trace.

  Those top-notch thieves think about not leaving any traces, just like those little thieves. Before they steal something, their footsteps will become lighter, their breathing will hold still, and in that instant, his entire body and state are twisted.

  Looking at the scarred area marked by Lao Dao. Zhang Shidong shook his head and directly told Yin, who was analyzing the scars at this location: "Don't bother looking, there's nothing here, it's a fake trap."

  Hiding in a daze, there was an old knife in front of him, and behind him were many trace experts, all analyzing the extension of this small piece of evidence, very convinced that it was left by the suspect, but when the instructor came, he suddenly denied it.

  Zhang Shidong smiled and said, "What I see is different from what you see."

  The car appeared at the scene of the crime, and soon the news reached Zhong Mou's ears. In two days' time, he had already controlled the entire Beihai Province. Upon hearing Zhang Shidong's "irresponsible" tracking method, he only said one sentence: "Those who are jealous of others are petty people."

  Standing in front of the large courtyard gate, Lao Dao marked the second trace at the scene. The chaotic footprints overlapped, and Lao Dao determined that this was based on experience. Zhang Shidong looked thoughtfully at a small protected area, comparing it to the image data sent by Su Xixi on his phone. He squatted there, lit a cigarette, and stared at the irregular circle of traces within one meter, remaining silent for a long time.

  The last bit of light disappeared from the horizon, and the streetlights along the road lit up. Zhang Shidong had several cigarette butts beside him. The winter snow and ice water that had melted and then re-frozen made footprints visible while also making them easy to disappear quickly. Afraid of sunlight and drifting snow, fortunately, the temperature hadn't changed much in the past two days.

  Ai Yuejin and his family of three returned from the hospital. Ai Yuejin went for further treatment, while Ai Ai went for some psychological counseling. As they were about to enter the compound, Ai Ai saw a familiar figure and shouted out loud.

  Ai Yuejin wanted to stop his daughter, but hesitated and held back. His intuition told him that the flirtatious woman in front of him was more trustworthy when it came to serious matters, whereas Zhong Meng's cold demeanor made her seem unreliable. This incident was no longer just about himself being attacked; the policy from above was to remain calm, but it seemed that some people were too calm, making them feel uneasy at heart.

  "Have you eaten yet? Come in and eat together." Ai asked cautiously.

  "Ah, oh, okay." Zhang Shidong's eyes were filled with bloodshot, he raised his head and responded with a sound, his eyelids felt cool, the hole that floated down from the air landed on his eyelids, his expression solidified: "You eat."

  It's snowing. Within half an hour, all visible traces will disappear, and the accumulated resentment that is not a trace will also be covered up. Zhang Shidong threw away his cigarette and stopped driving. Like a lost soul, he walked slowly along the pedestrian path beside the highway, with things in his eyes and ears that others couldn't see.

  At the bus stop, Zhang Shidong raised his head and felt the snowflakes in the sky. A three-dimensional picture appeared in his eyes: two men with backpacks walked calmly out of the courtyard, strolled along the pedestrian path for hundreds of meters, stood at the bus stop, waited for the bus to Linhu Park, and got on. Sitting in the last row, they sat separately on either side of the last row, opened the rear window frozen by frost.

  Get off at the terminal station of the park, buy a ticket and enter the park.

  Ten minutes later, from a corner of the park, a fence that had been quietly pried open to avoid buying tickets, left the park.

  After wandering for several hours, the snow was no longer an obstacle after entering a state, and that picture appeared clearly in his mind. When Zhang Shidong stood in front of a small old-fashioned residential area across from the provincial party committee, his eyes gradually woke up from a numb state, with his hand on the gate of the three-building compound, looking at an old man sitting in the mailroom at the entrance, seemingly strict but actually unguarded old-fashioned residential area, looking at the rental and sales information posted on the bulletin board at the entrance, at least one-third of the residents here are renters, the population mobility is so large that many neighbors don't know each other, and it's not unusual to meet strangers in the corridor.

  "The most dangerous place is often the safest place."

  Step into the neighborhood, at the edge of the building on the innermost side. A row of tall trees is just outside the several-meter-high wall, and outside the wall is a steel structure vegetable market.

  Zhang Shidong stood at the bottom of the building, gazing up at the third-floor window of Dashan's apartment. He took a few steps back, then sprinted forward and jumped onto the wall, using his hands to propel himself upward in a straight line until he reached the third-floor window. With a swift kick, he shattered the glass and burst into the room, landing on the couch in the living room.

  He stared at the man sitting on the couch, who was frozen in place with one hand inserted under the coffee table. Zhang Shidong's fist smashed backward, shattering the wall behind him, and he grabbed another man who was hiding against the wall with a gun. The man on the couch suddenly sprang back to life, but failed to grab the grenade hidden under the coffee table. A silver needle pierced his neck.

  His body stiffened, and he crashed onto the coffee table before falling to the ground.

  Inside the room, from the door to the house, a dozen or so large and small linked thunder arrays were arranged. Every step could trigger a chain reaction, and once it exploded, half of the building would become a ruin.

  Eat and sleep with a gun by your side, have grenades within half a meter, and be ready to launch an attack at the slightest movement.

  Several boxes of instant noodles, several boxes of sausages, several boxes of beer, the kitchen trash piled up like a mountain, not leaving the house for several days, and no intention of leaving the house. The telescope in the bedroom is aimed at the gate of the Provincial Party Committee building far away.

  "Lei Wang, how many years hasn't he returned to the country?" Zhang Shidong woke up the man on the sofa, and with a brain full of blood, he turned him into a ball in the room filled with thunderbolts, and said to the man opposite him who had a bump on his forehead.

  Forty years old, with unshaven stubble on his face, deep eye sockets, and bloodshot eyes that seemed to hold a sense of relief, he was caught but somehow felt liberated.

  "I've heard about it a few years ago, that Ninety-Nine had the youngest department head, I saw you back then...” Lei Wang shook his head, he didn't think much of Zhang Shidong at the time.

  "A seed buried for over a decade has burst into bloom in Beihai, it's terrifying." Zhang Shidong's one sentence made Lei Wang struggle to maintain his composure, his expression, movements and eyes all seemed fine, but when Zhang Shidong looked at the scars on his fingers, his defenses were completely broken. It wasn't that Lei Wang's mental quality was inadequate, but rather the information revealed in Zhang Shidong's words was too frightening.

  In this country, the struggle among high-ranking officials has always been controlled within a certain limit. No one dares to cross the line, but what happened to Ai Yuejin and Ai Ai exceeded that limit. Not only did it exceed the limit, but also the enormous power displayed by the people behind them left everyone speechless.

  "You can't die in front of me, you don't have to say anything, nothing matters anymore, let's go, as long as I let you live, that's enough. Leiwang, a favor for a meal, after drifting away from home for over a decade, unable to return, and now, dozens of kilograms of explosives, the entire Beihai Province, your final choice is the Lantern Festival fireworks display?"

  The Thunder King smiled, a smile of relief, his tense nerves relaxed, and a silver needle pierced his body.

  "I said I won't let you die here."

  Zhang Shidong pried open Lei Wang's mouth, his hand pressing on the lower teeth, and with a click, he pressed down one tooth, digging it out from his mouth. A small black bag was embedded inside the fake tooth.

  He picked up a fruit knife and pried open the meat that could reach his chest with his chin down, and took out another small black bag.

  No draft-keeping guys can't afford to be hurt, it's not good but okay, the coding rhythm is back, and the speed will pick up. Today's four or five updates are uncertain, upload as much as you code, and save for tomorrow. Please support with money if you have it, subscribe, like, reward, and monthly tickets; if not, just show your presence.