Cure to My Wailing Heart Chapter 10

Mason walked back to the street from the wall. It was still noisy there, with quite a few people gathered around.

He didn't know what happened to Travis's followers. He wanted to watch the finale again, but after standing there for two seconds, he thought of Travis's words again.

No one regards himself as a human being.

I don’t know if he is included in these.

Suddenly feeling quite boring, Mason turned around and walked slowly towards the supermarket.

After walking a few steps, he looked back at the road where Travis had disappeared when he left... Only then did he notice from a different angle that that place was not considered a road at all. It was just a narrow passage between the building and the wall. It was very dark. If Travis hadn't known where Travis walked from before, it would have been impossible for him to see that there was another passage there.

Travis seemed to be a local bully, and he probably had a map of the area's special escape routes in his mind.

Everyone has something like this in their mind, and it may not necessarily be a map, but may also be various other exclusive skill maps.

For example, Mason now really hopes that he has a skill map regarding housework in his mind.

Various procedures for housework and corresponding tools.

He stood in front of the mop shelf in the supermarket, feeling very depressed and feeling that his new life was full of malice towards him.

A mop is just for mopping the floor, so why are there so many types and styles?

Before, he thought he knew quite a bit about mops. Although someone else did the cleaning at home and it was not his turn, he at least knew there were two types of mops: the flat-head type and the large-handled type.

But now I find out that the flat-head type also has round flat-head and flat-head, and a lot of types are divided into the type that madly shakes water in the basket and the type that pulls the mop rod straight and twists it to squeeze out water...

And the materials are also different.

Something that seemed easy at first suddenly became very complicated.

In the end, he chose a flat-head one because it seemed to have a large area and it could scrape water away with the pole, so it should be good.

After returning home with the mop, he decided to mop the floor while he was drunk.

Just do it.

Wet the mop, scrape off the water, and start mopping.

He stopped just after mopping an area of   only two square meters. Looking at the handfuls of dust and lint mixture, he felt that he had made a mistake and should buy another broom.

There wasn't a lot of stuff on the floor before I mopped it, why is it getting dirtier the more I mop it...

What’s more, the landlord didn’t even provide a broom!

So what if the water heater and gas stove are new, there isn’t even a broom!

He frowned when he thought of the landlord who had just fought with someone with a big hole in his head and said that he was not as good as a dog.

Forget it, let’s just put it off.

An hour later, Mason, who was sweating all over, entered the bathroom.

At least I did mop the floor, but I'm not sure what the effect was. I only know that the wooden floor is now all wet.

This mop is not good. After scraping the water, it becomes dry mopping after a few times. If you don't scrape the water, it will be like a flood. You can only pretend not to see it. Finally, because he didn't have gloves, he didn't want to use his hands to pull off the inexplicable lint stuck on the mop, so after mopping the floor with lint twice, he threw away the mop cloth. Anyway, he was given a replacement.

He took off his clothes and stood under the hot water. A person like him, who was not diligent about his body and grain, felt very tired after mopping the floor as if he had fought a battle.

After taking a shower, he looked at the wound on his waist in the mirror again. It was okay. It seemed to be starting to scab over. Compared with the wound on Travis's head that had been bleeding for several hours, it was much stronger.

After taking a shower, Mason didn't even look at the time. He fell directly onto the bed and fell asleep. He tried to pull the quilt and duvet cover together for a long time but couldn't put them together neatly, so he simply kicked the duvet cover off the bed.

When I woke up in the morning, I found that I had thrown the pillowcase to the floor at some point.

Then there’s no need for that. If the quilt and pillow are dirty, just wash them. He knows there is a washing machine on the balcony.

After staying in bed for more than ten minutes, he slowly got out of bed. He had no clue where to start and how to face the new life, which made him a little distracted when gargling.

The phone rang in the living room for a long time before he heard it. He picked it up and looked at it. It was Bradley.

He sighed and picked up the phone: "Hello?"

"Are you up?" Bradley asked from the other side.

"Just woke up." Mason walked to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator, took out a can of milk, and when he wanted to pour it out to drink, he found that he didn't have a cup.

"Did you leave early yesterday? I came out to the hall and saw that there was no one at your table." Bradley said.

"Well, I'll leave after eating." Mason took two gulps of milk from the can and found that the milk was not as fragrant as the one he drank at home, and it was cold, which made him shiver.

But he couldn't remember what kind of milk they drank at home, and he seemed to have never paid attention to the box.

"Yesterday you were very disrespectful to Xiao Yi, my dear brother anyway," Bradley sighed, "He was very depressed throughout the meal and didn't talk much."

"He doesn't talk much." Mason said. Adrian is indeed a man of few words. Since childhood, the words he and Adrian used to talk to each other were not as many as those they used to talk to each other during their quarrels.

Bradley smiled and said, "He didn't say that when we were having dinner before..."

"How many times have you had dinner with him before?" Mason interrupted him. "It's been a year since we last had dinner together, right?"

"Hey, why are you angry with me?" Bradley was a little embarrassed.

Mason actually didn't want to choke Bradley like this, but he was really upset. Half of the people who had dinner yesterday were his friends in the past, and they were not as close to Adrian as he was to Holden, including Bradley, now Bradley's tone of "Actually, you and I are both friends" made him panic.

"Get up and get angry." Mason said.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?" Bradley said with a smile, "Are there any activities later?"

"No." Mason put the milk back into the refrigerator. It was too cold and made him feel a little nauseous.

"No activities? I see your few... friends," Bradley said, "don't look like... are those your new friends?"

"Yeah." Mason responded.

"It's surprising that you can still hang out with such people." Bradley laughed.

"I can hang out with anyone," Mason said. "The people I hung out with before were not as good as them."

"Hey," Bradley sighed, "I forgive you. You've been in a bad mood recently."

"Do you have a problem with me?" Mason asked.

"If nothing happens, why don't you make a phone call?" Bradley said, "Don't we always call each other before?"

"It's not like before," Mason said. "I'm very busy."

"What are you busy with?" Bradley asked immediately.

"Go to the supermarket and buy a cup." Mason replied.

"What?" Bradley was stunned and didn't react.

"Hang up." Mason hung up the phone.

His original plan for today was to stay at home. Although he was reluctant and had no idea what to do, he still had to think about what to do next.

He did have money on hand, although the gap was quite large, from not considering the issue of money at all to suddenly realizing that there was still an upper limit to the money that truly belonged to him, and it was not much by his standards, but he did not need to worry about it for a normal day.

His "what to do" is that he can no longer live the way he did before.

He can do whatever he wants and whatever he doesn't want to do. Every time Holden asks him to cooperate, he will sign a contract and then pay. He has always felt that it is quite boring. It is just for fun, as long as he is happy.

Now that he thinks about it, his collaboration with Holden is probably the only thing in his useless career that can be classified as useless.

He sighed, stood up and walked around the room. Since he was going to the supermarket to buy a cup, he would check out what else he needed to buy, so that he could buy it all at once and save himself from running around.

But when he went out, he only came up with a broom.

He picked up a glass and an ugly red plastic broom from the supermarket, took them home and as soon as he opened the door, Mason sighed. He should buy a shoe rack. Although he didn't have as many shoes as before, he still had three pairs of shoes, including slippers, and it looked ugly when they were piled at the door.

He took out his cell phone and wrote the words shoe rack on his notepad.

If you find something missing, write it down immediately. This will save you a few trips.

But when he went to the supermarket in the evening, there were still only the words "shoe rack" on the notebook, and the supermarket did not sell shoe racks.

In the following days, he kept going back and forth between the supermarket and the house. Every time he found something missing, he needed it immediately. For example, when he was sweeping the floor, he found that there was no trash can, and when he wanted to make instant noodles, he found that there was only a pot but no bowl. When I wanted to dry my clothes, I found there were no hangers...

There are also various things that I usually use but don’t have on hand now, from computers to ashtrays.

It took him almost a month to experience the feeling of renting a house with furnishings and appliances but actually having nothing.

When the doorbell rang, Mason was standing in the living room and lamented that there was finally nothing he needed to go out to buy today.

The beginning of a new life has finally come to an end.

He went over and looked out through the peephole, only to find it was pitch black; someone had blocked the peephole.

But the doorbell is still ringing.

Mason frowned, locked the door, and then asked, "Who?"

"Me." Someone outside answered.

The voice sounded familiar, but not so familiar that one could recognize it with just one word.

"Don't you have a name?" Mason asked.

"Connor." said the person outside.

Mason realized that the voice did belong to the Chief Protector.

"Why are you blocking the peephole?" Mason asked again. This man seemed like a low-profile version of Travis's psychopath. He didn't dare to open the door with the peephole blocked.

"Rules." Connor replied.

"Where the hell is the rule of blocking the peephole first when knocking on the door?" Mason was simply convinced.

"It's not blocked anymore," Connor said, "Hurry up, open the door!"

Mason looked out through the peephole and saw that it was no longer blocked. Connor was the only one standing at the door, still wearing sunglasses in the windowless corridor.

He opened the door a crack and looked at Connor: "What's the matter?"

"Collecting rent." Connor said.

"---..Awesome," Mason opened the door, let Connor in, and gave him a thumbs up, "You can collect rent so high that people want to call 110."

The lights were off and the curtains were drawn. After Connor entered the room, he bumped into the sofa and finally took off his sunglasses: "It's not even a month yet, just a few days short, but the agreement states that the rent is due on the 28th of each month, so..."

"It's okay, do you want to transfer money?" Mason asked.

"Why should I come here to transfer money?" Connor looked at him as if he was a retarded person. "Cash, Sister Qian likes cash."

"Oh." Mason took the wallet. Fortunately, he had withdrawn money before. If Connor hadn't followed Connor's approach, he would have been able to escort him to the bank to withdraw money.

"You have everything here, right?" Connor looked around the room. "Have you even bought the electric chair?"

"Electric..." Mason was speechless, "That's called an electric massage chair."

"It's called the electric chair," Connor said.

"Okay," Mason nodded, counted out the money and handed it to him, "Count it."

Connor didn't take the money, but looked at him: "The third brother is really right."

"What?" Mason asked.

"You are a fool." said Connor.

Mason was stunned for a long time. He didn't know what to say, and he couldn't even correctly choose an emotion for himself.

"He rented the house to you," Connor said, "and now I'm here to collect the rent, and you gave me the money without any hesitation?"

Mason continued to look at him in silence.

"He just called me up, and I said what if you don't give it to me," Connor said. "The third brother said he wouldn't. He's such a fool. He must have given it to me without asking. Are you really serious?"

Mason gritted his teeth, put the money back into his wallet, and sat on the sofa: "Tell Travis to come and get the money himself."

"He's downstairs. If you don't believe me, just give him a call," Connor said.

Mason didn't say anything, took out his cell phone and dialed Travis's number.

"Hello." Travis's voice came from the other side. This voice was easier to recognize than Connor's.

"I have to pay the rent to you personally." Mason said.

"Just give it to Connor," Travis said, "I asked him to collect it."

"No," Mason said, "Who is responsible if something goes wrong?"

"I'm in charge," Travis said, "I'm downstairs."

"Then you come up and sign a liability exemption agreement with me." Mason said.

"What the hell?" Travis was stunned.

"If Connor absconds with the money," Mason said calmly, "or if he gets robbed as soon as he leaves the house, or if a gust of wind blows the money away when he hands it to you, I will not be held responsible at all."

"Are you fcuking sick?" Travis was surprised.

"I'm not sick," Mason said, "I'm just stupid."

"fcuk." Travis cursed softly, "What did Connor say to you?"

"Come up and get the money yourself, or come up and sign the exemption yourself." After Mason finished speaking, he hung up the phone and looked at Connor.

Only then did he suddenly notice that Connor seemed to have a lot of injuries on his face.

"What's the matter?" Connor asked him.

"Ask Third Brother." Mason went over and turned on the lights in the living room, confirming that Connor's face was indeed injured, and the injuries were quite dazzling. He probably wore sunglasses to protect his image as a protector of the law.

"I find you," Connor said as he sat down on the chair, "have a really bad temper."

"You follow Travis every day and say I have a bad temper? The fan filter is a bit too thick," Mason said, "Can you still see the road?"

"He rarely loses his temper." said Connor.

Mason was speechless. Although he had never seen Travis a few times, the only time he didn't get angry was during the meal that day.

"You have never seen him really angry," Connor probably noticed his suspicion, and added, "If he really gets angry, you will die after kicking the trash can that day."

"fcuk you, uncle," Mason couldn't hold it back, "Have you ever had your IQ tested?"

"No." Connor replied.

Mason gritted his teeth and said nothing more. He was speechless.

After staring at Connor in silence for a few minutes, fully admiring the various bruises on his face, the doorbell rang. Connor immediately jumped up and went to open the door: "Third brother, I told him to give him the money." Give me---.."

"Are you free?" Travis walked into the room, took a chair and sat down, looking at Mason, "Are you taking me out for a walk?"

Mason had thought about what to say before, but the moment he saw Travis, he forgot what he was going to say: "Are you...going to jump off the building?"

The gauze on Travis's head lasted for a month, but it was still there, and it was still bleeding. There was an additional wound on his face. His right arm was hanging, the trouser leg of his left leg was rolled up, and he was splinted from his ankle to his calf. .

He never expected to see such a scene. Even if it was a fight over territory, a boss would be injured more seriously than the protector. It was really unbelievable.

"It's all because of me..." Connor frowned beside him, looking uncomfortable.

"Don't be sentimental," Travis waved to him, then looked at Mason and asked, "Where's the money?"

"Receipt." Mason said.

Connor took out a receipt book and a pen, and when he was about to write on it, Mason pointed at Travis: "Whoever accepts it will write it."

"Third brother's hand is injured!" Connor glared at him angrily.

"---..He is left-handed." Mason said.

Travis stared at him for a few seconds, then stretched out his hand to Connor, who put the receipt and pen in his hand.

"I received a letter from Mason today..." Travis put the receipt on the table and wrote on it while reading it.

"Ke means to abide by, not Ke means passenger." Mason looked at his scribbles-like words.

Travis looked up at him.

Mason sighed, took the pen from his hand, and wrote his name on the notepad next to him: "Don't you have a copy of my ID card?"

"Who remembers that?" Travis took back the pen, crossed out the word "ke", wrote a "ge" on it, then crossed it out again, looked at the notepad again, and wrote the word "ke" on it, "I just looked at the photo and the age."

Mason kept the receipt and gave the money to Travis.

Then a familiar scene appeared. The three of them looked at each other in silence. Mason originally thought that since they had had a meal together that day, things shouldn't be so awkward and unfriendly, but it seemed that he still didn't know Travis well enough.

When he cleared his throat and was about to see off the guests, Travis tilted his head towards Connor. Connor opened the door and walked out, then closed the door again.

"What?" Mason looked at him.

"That 888 Maybach," Travis slowly took out a cigarette with one hand and put it in his mouth, then slowly took out a lighter and lit the cigarette, "What does it have to do with you?"

Mason was stunned: "That's my brother's car."

"What's your problem?" Travis narrowed his eyes.

"Me?" Mason failed to understand the logic here.

"What's your purpose?" Travis asked.

"---..What the hell are you talking about?" Mason frowned, "What happened to the 888 Maybach?"

"The 888 Maybach was wandering around here today," Travis said. "It circled twice and then left. What was it here for? You brought a driver with you. Why not drive it yourself? I'm afraid that I might miss something while driving. Didn't you see it?"

"He has to bring a driver wherever he goes," Mason said helplessly, "He doesn't have the capital!"

Travis was stunned: "No talent?"

"Yeah, he can't drive." Mason sighed. He couldn't think about what Travis was talking about now. He was a little confused. Why is Adrian hanging around here?

"Is that your brother?" Travis asked.

"Yes, same father and same mother." Mason said.

Travis looked at him, and after a while he whispered, "Are you really not adopted? The difference is quite big."

"Get lost." Mason said.

Travis laughed. After laughing, he took his cup and took a sip of water: "You brother, stay away. In ancient times, you were the kind of master who killed his own brother to seize the throne of the prince."

Mason frowned. He and Adrian did not have a good relationship, but these words still made him feel uncomfortable.

"Really, I can tell just by looking at him." Travis said.

"You can also read faces," Mason said, "I admire you."

"I have seen more bad people," Travis said, "than the children and grandchildren you have shot."

Mason said nothing. The look in Travis's eyes when he said this made him ignore the rudeness of the sentence itself.