Jay Chou (Jielun) 1983 Alley 65438+ February sunny.

Chapter VII Night

The typewriter continued to push the next line closer to the truth.

The fog of heather pipe drifted to the withered tree.

Cry to me silently

On the knight's arm on the round square armor next to Baker Street.

Iris's badge is slightly brighter.

A late-night visit accompanied by the sound of a driverless carriage

The bloody opening of evil in Victoria moonlight

A vanished pistol and a blackened cane.

Who is not present at the melting wax statue?

The illusion of symbols on jewelry boxes

Contradictions led to his death.

The evidence was perfectly covered up.

Laughing at Scotland Yard's rising corners of the mouth.

If evil is a magnificent and cruel movement (then justice is a deep and helpless depression)

I will write its ending with my own hands (then I will light the light in the ashes)

The morning light dries the last sadness (then raindrops will wash away the dark high walls)

Black ink dyed peacefully (turn off the lights, red curtain lowered)

may you have a happy new year!

Facts can only go deep into the soil without footprints.

Sudden faint floral fragrance, deliberately conspicuous clothing

Everyone wears a mask and lies for different reasons.

Motivation has only one name, and that is desire.

Very far away.

Farther and farther

Who can really cross the swamp of human nature without being polluted?

We can forget and forgive.

But we must know the truth.

The last photo of the moved iron bed was finally put together.

I heard footsteps and looked forward to soft leather heels.

He pushed open the door, and the night wind shook the kerosene lamp for a while.

The typewriter stopped at the killer's name and I turned around.

The night sky at Westminster Abbey began to boil.

Bloom gorgeous chest of death.

I tasted the last sweet truth.

Smile and remember that justice is just a quiet justice.

The violin is in The Times.

W: If evil is a gorgeous and cruel movement (I hear footsteps and expect soft leather heels).

He pushed open the door and the night wind shook the kerosene lamp.

I will write the ending myself (the typewriter stops at the murderer's name, I turn around and the night sky at Westminster Abbey begins to boil).

Female: Black ink is peaceful.

If evil is a magnificent and cruel movement,

I'll write the ending myself.

The morning light wiped away the last sadness.

Black ink dyed peacefully.

may you have a happy new year!