Antibiotics: one in a trillion brothers

All the colleagues who have worked with Yang Yi have one comment on him: jealousy like hatred.

He has a sense of justice like that of film and television dramas, exaggerated, dramatic, and sometimes even surpasses human feelings and common sense, which is puzzling.He once jumped from the third floor in order to intercept a small thief who stole an old lady's wallet. He once subdued a gangster wielding a syringe full of AIDS patients' blood with his bare hands.

Yang Yi can do things that normal people can't do.

His physical fitness, fighting skills, and marksmanship are all outstanding, and he has a passion for it. Even if there are thousands of troops ahead, he still has the courage to enter the enemy line alone and then beat the criminals to the ground with his own strength.After two years in the industry, he suffered countless injuries, and his shirt was full of scars when he took off his shirt.In his world, it seems that the price of justice has never been weighed, as if it is worth giving up life as long as it is against evil, no matter what else.

The old policeman advised him: Why bother working so hard, the policeman is just a job after all, not worth it.

Every time at this time, Yang Yi would nod his head and say yes, but the next time he was about to do something, he would put all his teachings behind him and still rush to the forefront.

Every time he strikes, he is a little heavy. After being kicked by him, the little thief who broke his arm was howling with snot and tears at the police station: "I just stole a few hundred yuan, just hand it over. Didn't kill your whole family, as for messing with me like this? Fuck, are you insane!"

The higher-ups reminded Yang Yi many times in a difficult and tactful manner: Our goal is to control criminals, and it is not good to use lynching at will.

Yang Yi bowed and apologized with a good attitude: "I'm really sorry, I didn't think about anything else at the time. I was already strong in my hand, and I couldn't control it if I didn't pay attention. I really didn't think about using lynching. I must pay attention next time."

But the criminals who had been beaten by him all said: This man is killing people!

They all accused you policemen of bandits and robbers in uniform.

But in the end, except for the 312 violence, he never killed anyone. If he said it, it was just that the police had taught the criminal a few times, and he beat him up, and some people applauded.Arresting criminals is not about business, so how can we be calm?The gang of criminals who committed crimes had the nerve to bite back.It's just a side effect of a little heroism, Comrade Yang Yi is a young, promising and good policeman who has repeatedly made outstanding achievements.

Besides, Yang Yiping is polite and kind-hearted, and has always had a good temper. He has never fought with others outside of punishing criminals. Therefore, everyone thinks that the reason why he is aggressive in chasing criminals is because he is a hater in his bones. Man, isn't that the best character for a policeman?

But Yang Yi knew that he was a violent maniac, with a natural desire for blood and killing.

Seeing cats and dogs, what he thought of was not how cute they were, but how to wring their heads off.

In sparring with others, what he wants to do is not to hit the end, but to cut off the opponent's spine with one palm.

Walking on the road, looking at the black heads all around, he imagined shooting the whole field with a gun, filling every corner with cries and screams.

While he was crazily trapped in fantasies, he was suppressing his brutal nature. How many times, he was painfully torn between fantasy and reality, and after he woke up, he had to blend in the crowd calmly and decently.

In the past ten years, only on March [-] last year, he lived happily.He saw the bullet opening the bloody hole in the opponent's forehead, heard the muffled sound of the fist smashing into the opponent's body, the blood was throbbing, every cell was trembling with excitement, the knife wound on the back was like a lethal stimulant, the pain was so painful He wanted to tear people apart with his bare hands.

At that time, in the blood-red field of vision, there was chaos, but to him, it was a lawless arena.

After returning from the Anle Grocery Store, Yang Yihong came to the live fish tank in the fresh food section of the supermarket, reached out and nodded: "These three don't need to be killed, I want to live."

Walking back with the wet plastic bag in hand, the water drops fell rhythmically on the asphalt road. The road surface was still warm, and a wisp of water vapor soon rose up. , The moths bumped into the yellowed light tube again and again, "bang bang bang", the lights flickered erratically, and the persistence made people feel a little flustered.Accompanied by the sound, in a trance, Wang Zhao's face appeared in front of his eyes. His current appearance, his youthful appearance, Yang Yi thought, he is more like a moth who doesn't know the world and is tactful, and likes to rush to the self-righteous place. bright.

When the sharp ceramic knife pierces the body of the fish repeatedly, the sharp blade cuts off the muscles, blood vessels and nerves and makes a crisp sound. His life died tragically. When he saw them suffering so much that he could not make a sound, when the blood spots splashed on the skirt of his clothes, and the silver fish scales covered the white floor tiles like snowflakes, his restless heart was finally soothed. With a sigh of relief, he collapsed on the table and chair, and wiped his face with bloody hands.

His tyrannical desires were expressed for a moment, and the blood that had flowed continuously due to the reunion with Wang Zhao gradually cooled down. He looked like a drug addict, staring at the mess on the ground in emptiness and contentment.

Before today, he never expected that their meeting would be so sudden, let alone that he would almost lose control because of meeting him again.

Yang Yi took a breath of the bloody Yellow Crane Tower, the strange taste was not to his liking, lingering in the smoke, for some reason, he recalled the aftermath of the tower fire incident in the first two years.

After the heavy rain that day, the sky was dark, and the mountain bike ran over puddles along the road. When Wang Yi returned home, Wang Zhao was already sitting in the living room waiting for him.

There is no one at home, and his parents are busy with work and always come home late. Wang Zhaoduan sits in the middle of the dusty cloth sofa, smiling indifferently and relaxedly. The urgency of the title.

Wang Yi lowered his head to change his shoes. The rain-soaked sneakers were thrown on the ground twice, making a muffled wet sound. He didn't look at him, and ordered lightly, "Stand up."

Wang Zhao stood up.

"come over."

Wang Zhao approached obediently again.

In the next second, an uppercut punched his stomach fiercely.

As if forming a kind of unspoken tacit understanding, Wang Zhao didn't dodge or dodge, he swallowed the punch, groaned, and curled up unconsciously.

Before he could catch his breath, he was immediately grabbed by the back of his collar and dragged to the slightly spacious dining table. Wang Zhao didn't make a sound, allowing Wang Yi to roughly pull him away, and the tight neckline made a sharp knot on his thin neck. red marks.

Immediately afterwards, fists and feet rained down on his chest, back, waist, abdomen and thighs, and he was severely beaten everywhere except his face.Fist to the flesh, without the slightest mercy.That ruthlessness was completely different from Wang Yi's usual external image.

Wang Zhao didn't cry out for pain, didn't beg for mercy, and let him beat him. He fell to the ground writhing in pain, like a poor caterpillar.

Wang Yi picked out the empty milk bottle from the trash can and kicked the caterpillar on the back. Wang Zhao could not help but groan in pain. He smashed the bottle on the floor next to him: "Tell me, is the fire in the bell tower the fault?"

There was a fierce look in his eyes, and he asked the question knowingly, not to find a solution, just because there must be a clear reason for asking a teacher for a crime.

He has a valid reason every time he does it.

Wang Zhao turned over, his hair was scattered on the worn wooden floor, he smiled palely, and asked, "It's me, didn't you already know?"

His smile was distorted by the severe pain, and words were squeezed out between his teeth, and his eyes looking up were full of indifference: "If you want to hit, hit it."

That beating was as brutal as many beatings before and after. Wang Zhao didn't fight back, and Wang Yi didn't show mercy.

The pain was so severe that he was sweating like rain, and while Wang Yi was panting, Wang Zhao asked in a trembling voice, "Yi, do you love me?"

Wang gritted his teeth and punched him hard in the abdomen: "Fuck you! You fucking pervert, I'll fucking kill you."

Wang Zhao shrank into a shrimp, convulsing from the pain.

When Wang Zhao raised his hand during dinner, the sleeve slipped off, revealing the mottled and fresh injury on his slender arm. His mother found out and asked him what happened.

"I got into a fight with someone outside." Wang Zhao replied casually.

Wang Yi didn't say a word, and concentrated on eating. His mother sighed knowingly, knowing that this son was out of control, so she just said, "Don't fight."

Wang Zhao said "Oh", put down his chopsticks and stood up: "I'm full."

"You didn't eat much."

Wang Zhao looked as if he might faint at any moment, turned around and went back to his room: "I'm not hungry."

The mother said to Wang Yi: "When will he be as sensible as you."

Wang Yi glanced at the bedroom door: "Yes, when."

Wang Zhaocheng had a venting tool for his youth, and human flesh sandbags, which is coincidental that Wang Zhao always created a reason to make Wang Yi beat him. If he gets bored, he will beat him. If he doesn't study hard, Wang Yi will still beat him. In short, he will fight when he disagrees, sometimes with fists, sometimes with props.

Wang Zhao didn't resist, and he didn't have a long memory. The next second after being beaten, he would still ask Wang Yiai if he loved her, and continued to cause trouble everywhere the next day.As soon as Wang told him to go home and wait to be beaten, he went home obediently and waited to be beaten, but his face never showed fear because of it, and every time he was beaten, he showed a sense of neither humble nor humble, which was annoying.

Wang Yi found him annoying and disgusting, but Wang Yi didn't notice it at the time, and he was secretly happy about it.

Crushing a small earthworm to death, watching Quentin's violent aesthetics, imagining bloody killings one after another, are all just scratching the surface. The peaceful social system suppresses his nature, and Wang Zhao is the only way for him to vent.

In his youth, Wang Zhao endured all the violent anger that Wang Yi wanted to inflict on others, and satisfied his secret desires that were different from ordinary people.

So when seeing him today, the blood in Yang Yi's body boiled with the recovery of memories.

He wanted to punch him hard, wanted to hear him suck on the ground impatiently, curled up and wriggled like a caterpillar.

I want to hear him ask "Do you love me", and then yell at him as a pervert.

I can't stand it.

The Yellow Crane Tower, which was stained with blood, burned down in a blink of an eye, and ten years passed in a blink of an eye.

In the room with no lights on, a blood-stained sandbag hangs in the center like a corpse, and the hand injured by beating the sandbag a few days ago has scabs.He twisted the cigarette with his bruised fingers, and laughed at himself, what defending the country, what justice, what jealousy, all are excellent skins to legitimize his brutal nature.

No matter how beautiful the words are, fighting skills and marksmanship are wounding skills. In troubled times, wounding skills will always be just a showy sport.In a legal society, the violence of the state is used to replace the violence of the individual. The essence is to control violence with violence. Since individuals cannot use violence casually, then find a way to become the party that can legally use violence, and use wounding techniques to hurt people in a fair and honest manner. .

So Yang Yi chose the profession of policeman, desperate to satisfy the desire of hunting and violence, killing people and becoming a hero.No one can accuse him of his filthy thoughts. In a society ruled by law, he doesn't care about his deeds. He is a good person when he acts correctly and is politically correct. No one has the right to judge what kind of thoughts he has in his heart.

If you have a clear understanding of the rules, you can survive in the cracks.

But ah, there are too few opportunities for him to be presumptuous like that, he is like a wild beast strayed into the human world, and the restraint instinct almost drives him crazy.He has imagined countless times that it would be great if he was born in a primitive society. He would not need to talk about civilization and morality like a dog. Everyone advocates strength, and the only way to fight for rights and interests is to fight.

Yang Yi went to meet Wang Zhao, holding a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

Wang Zhao was cleaning the glass window at the door of the dilapidated shop. He was still dressed in loose white clothes, with disheveled hair and old scars under his rolled up sleeves. He was neither surprised nor surprised to see him coming. Lifted inside: "Go in and sit, I'll be right there."

He turned back to wipe the glass again, and there was nothing under the long-sleeved white T-shirt. Yang Yi felt that he was as thin as a fallen leaf, which could fly away when the wind blew.

Wang Zhao brought a plastic cup, and Yang Yi used a screwdriver to open the wine bottle cap: "Why is it just a cup?"

Wang Zhao said, "I don't know how to drink."

Yang Yi looked at him quite unexpectedly, Wang Zhao sat down opposite him, and said, "Do you think that I should develop into a person who never leaves my body with alcohol and tobacco, has tattoos and holes all over my body, and even takes drugs?"

When Wang Zhao asked this question, he pinched the body of the ice water bottle with bony fingers, and looked at him through his long black hair with a smile in his eyes.Yang Yi didn't answer, he poured himself the wine, the amber liquid flowed into the plastic cup, he picked it up and took a sip.

"Don't you smoke?"

Wang Zhao replied, "No smoking."

"Tattoos?"

"There is one, under the clothes."

"Heh." Yang Yi smiled inexplicably.

"Normal people are similar, but abnormal people have different attitudes," Wang Zhao said. "Smoking, alcohol and tattoos have no moral attributes, they are all human prejudices."

Inside the small grocery store is Wang Zhao’s living room. There is only room for a single folding bed and a small plastic table. Yang Yi sits on the only stool and Wang Zhao sits beside the bed.The living room is connected to the back door. As soon as you open the door, you will see the ruins left by the demolition. There are boxes of mineral water piled up beside the door, and there is a large bag of empty bottles collected after being crushed.

The lighting in the house was not good, and the lights were not turned on when the sun was drowsy. Wang Zhao said that he had nothing to entertain, so he had to blame you for drinking the wine you brought. He took a bottle of Wahaha from the freezer himself.He just sat down and got up again, went to the front to fetch a bag of half-eaten biscuits and handed it to Yang Yi.

"Drinks and drinks, let's have it."

Yang Yi took it and put it on the table, and said vaguely, "It's all right."

The conversation was unexpectedly calm, the two were no longer teenagers, and the distance between them was separated by time. The sense of familiarity at that time still remained, but something had changed vaguely, awkwardly, and could not come back.

They asked each other about their circumstances over the years, and Wang Zhao said that the old man passed away two years ago because of pancreatic cancer, the pain was so unbearable that he committed suicide.Yang Yi said lightly, oh.

Wang Zhao asked him again, what about mother?Yang Yi said that he lives with his stepfather in Beijing and will retire next year.Wang Zhao said lightly, oh.

After their parents divorced, not only did the two have no contact with each other, but they didn't even contact their parents in other places, thinking about seeing them.On the point of emotional indifference, the two brothers reached a surprising agreement.

Yang Yi went on to talk about other things, and quickly explained ten years in a few words.

"It's good that you become a policeman." After hearing this, Wang Zhao propped his head and nodded, with some intriguing meaning in his plain tone.

"What about you, you just run this store?" Yang Yi asked, looking around the room.

Wang Zhao smiled sinisterly: "Do you think it's over?"

Yang Yi picked up his glass to drink, and quickly glanced at him sideways: "I remember you used to like to study explosions very much, even I couldn't understand the chemistry books on the table."

After hearing this, Wang Zhao half-covered his mouth and let out a smirk, his dull long hair trembling accordingly: "The explosion is too eye-catching, I don't dare to do it without you to wipe my ass."

"Then what are you researching now?" Yang Yi asked.

Wang Zhao suppressed his smile, leaned over slightly, and said half jokingly and half seriously, "If I say it's poisonous drugs, do you believe it or not?"

Without hesitation, Yang Yi said, "Believe it."

Wang Zhao looked away, pinched the body of the bottle and twisted his mouth into a half-smile.

The conversation continued unremarkably, like eating a bowl of instant noodles without seasoning packets. Yang Yi gradually felt his body gnawed by insects and ants, and the itching was unbearable. When communicating with a familiar stranger, every move is clearly the same as before, but the words between the lines are like chewing wax, and the sense of powerlessness and anxiety arises spontaneously.

At a certain moment, the scene was cold, they didn't talk much before, the experience of ten years was summed up, and silence shrouded.

Yang Yi gulped down the liquid in the cup in one gulp, put the cup down heavily, and poured a second cup.

Wang Zhao didn't say a word, just bent his back to look at him, with a slight smile, his face was as pale as paper, like a ghost lurking in a corner.

The strong alcohol burned through the throat and esophagus, all the way into the stomach, the alcohol gradually rushed to the brain, and the thoughts were tangled like a mess.

Yang Yi really wanted to do something, but he didn't know what to do. The flame of anxiety in his heart was burning hotter and hotter.

Suddenly, Wang Zhao called him, "One."

The heart suddenly stopped beating.

Hearing this familiar address again in the past ten years, Yang Yicai realized that they hadn't called each other's name after the reunion. The call was like a key locked into a lock, instantly releasing the past that was sealed behind the door of time.

In an instant, two waves of black air exploded from the back, and swish, a pair of huge pitch-black wings spread out. In the cramped space, what fluttered and fell was full of tacit ugliness.

Yang Yi slowly raised his head and stared at Wang Zhao staring at him. When he saw the familiar almost fanatical affection in his eyes, Yang Yi felt that he was finally alive.

Wang Zhao asked, "Do you love me?"

After ten seconds of silence, Yang Yi said, "You pervert."

Wang Zhao smiled, like any time before, heartless, skinless and faceless.

Something came back.

At the time of parting, the sun was setting, and the sky showed a filter-like pink blue and pink. Wang Zhao stood in the store, holding the glass counter with his hands. The afterglow of the setting sun painted his white clothes with orange. He leaned out and asked Yang Yi standing outside the store: "Are you in love?"

Yang Yi shook out a stick of Hongtashan from the cigarette case: "No."

"Have you talked about it?"

Cigarette in mouth.

"No."

While smoking, the red light at the top flashes suddenly, and the smell of tobacco wafts away.

Wang Zhao blinked, smiled for a while, "Really."

Get into the back room and disappear.

In the setting sun, a dozen or so cigarette butts swayed in the breeze like wind chimes. Yang Yi stood where he was and took two puffs of cigarettes silently, put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave.