There was one thing that Dazhe had already begun to admire about No. 18. That was Dazhe found that she could stare at her motionless for more than an hour.
As for whether No. 18 blinked or not, it is unknown. If it takes such a long time to keep an eye on a so-called financial owner, and it may even be much longer, then Dazhe feels that the work of the Black Soul Messenger is definitely a task.
Drudgery.
But having said that, this man named Zhu Maolin is indeed what his subordinates thought, a workaholic.
Such a person is probably the company boss's favorite general, right? Just because the company boss likes him, it doesn't mean that the people below him will like him.
"On the 18th, is this guest difficult to deal with?" Dazhe finally couldn't help but ask.
At this time, No. 18 just turned his head slowly, glanced at Dazhe, and then continued to look at Zhu Maolin, who was having a meeting all night, without saying anything. Dazhe felt bored, so he had to look around.
In Dazhe's view, No. 18 is completely mysterious... But as for No. 18, she is just confused about some things and the intention of this potential sponsor approved by the new owner this time.
In fact, when she rewinds the time to the way before she went back to the club, the man in front of her was just a random person on the 18th. He just happened to pass by. I felt that this man's soul power was pretty good, so I made a photo of him.
White card.
Zhu Maolin was naturally unable to compare with the other sponsors she was looking for. Even though the information cards for the other sponsors she made were not necessarily that serious, it was certain that they took more effort than the one in front of her.
It's much more.
The new owner actually approved this donor, who is a little more ordinary compared to the others... Is this a warning about my work attitude?
On the other hand, now that she has been observing Zhu Maolin for some time, she feels like she has no idea where to start. It is not because of a lack of ability to deal with ordinary people. A black soul messenger like her with a long experience has too much ability.
There are many methods, but the problem is that there are too many methods and I don’t know which method is better.
She also told Dazhe that black soul messengers have their own preferences. Obviously, Zhu Maolin is not her preferred type.
Or maybe... because this time we need to guide the new Dark Soul Messenger Dazhe, the new master will choose Zhe who seems to be more common and easier to start, just as a tutorial?
In fact, this actually reveals a deeper meaning... The new owner doesn't want Dazhe to be influenced by my style?
Complicating a doubt is the most irrational thing. Black Soul No. 18 knows this. However, after all, this is not someone else, but the one who is her master.
The new owner might just take it out casually and have no further meaning...but what if there is?
Black soul messengers are born with a reverence for their masters that they cannot control. They are in awe of the person who holds the throne of the shop owner... to be more precise, it is this throne.
No. 18 felt that she was trapped in a strange thinking circle. Reason told her that this might be just a simple business, but her intuition reminded her that it was not that simple.
But she suddenly felt a tap on her shoulder, and her body suddenly atomized and then retreated, gathering back again one meter away.
I saw Dazhe's arm still raised in the air, looking quite at a loss.
"What are you doing?" No. 18 asked coldly.
Dazhe shook his head and said, "I just want to ask you, do you want something to drink?"
He was still holding two bottles of green tea in his hand and explained: "I just saw you were taking it too seriously, so I walked away and bought it."
"Dark souls don't need to eat." No. 18 said calmly.
Dazhe shrugged, "But you still have taste, right? If you don't eat... isn't it very pitiful? Okay... whatever you want, I put it here. If you want to drink it, just get it yourself."
"Boring." No. 18 threw off his sleeves and continued to observe Zhu Maolin, "Also, don't touch me casually in the future, forget it this time. Zhanlu won't be able to protect you next time!"
In a tone like a malicious warning, the key pendant around Dazhe's neck buzzed, as if he was quite dissatisfied with this provocation.
(Zhanlu: Come on! Come and hurt each other!)
So how long are you going to stare at people... Dazhe leaned against the wall, yawned, and then glanced at Zhu Maolin who was waving a pen on the projection screen. He saw the ring on his ring finger and muttered: "
This guy, if he doesn’t go home, he won’t be able to call his wife..."
…
…
"So be it."
It was almost two o'clock in the morning, Zhu Maolin looked at all the employees in his team and said: "The candidates for the reshoots have been finalized. Tboy, please contact her early tomorrow morning. It is best to have her come to the set in the afternoon. As for the script,
, I'll prepare...Thank you for your hard work, get off work."
The city was very quiet late at night. Some people dragged their tired figures away, while others returned to their seats, pulled out their stools, covered themselves with clothes, and refused to move.
Zhu Maolin looked at the time and drove away.
He kind of forgot when he started to like such a quiet night, without having to worry about traffic jams on the road, and without dazzling sunlight. The city seemed to be falling asleep in front of his eyes.
But he is still thinking about the script for the small film he will shoot tomorrow. At this time, he only has a vague prototype in his mind, and he has not been able to grasp the specific details thoroughly.
Soon after, he parked his car in front of a convenience store in front of the park. He had asked an employee to buy a midnight snack earlier, but he didn't eat it. Now he felt hungry, so he went directly to the convenience store.
Finally, he bought a pack of cigarettes, then ordered a bottle of coffee, and returned to his car.
While smoking a cigarette, the car stereo was playing "Sarborough-Air".
He slowly closed his eyes, and his mind began to relax, as if he was exiled to the Bayinbulak grassland, which was the place where he was born.
Ding!
The reminder sound of a text message on his mobile phone suddenly pulled Zhu Maolin's thoughts from the vast grassland back to the mobile phone in the car in front of the park. He took a look.
Wife: Are you still working overtime?
Zhu Maolin: Still not asleep?
Wife: I'm thirsty and have a drink of water, but you didn't reply.
Zhu Maolin: Yes. There will be reshoots tomorrow and we are still at the company. You should rest first.
Wife: Yeah.
Zhu Maolin: Good night.
Goodnight, wife.
Zhu Maolin breathed a sigh of relief, and the slightly astringent smell of coffee brought him a little energy. He opened his laptop, placed it on his legs, opened the document, and began to write the script in his mind.
Are you going to Scarborough Market?
Cilantro, sage, rosemary and thyme…
This is the only voice that accompanies him.
…
…
Good night.
Ask her to find me an acre of land
Cilantro, sage, rosemary and thyme
Just between the water and the coast
This was also the only sound that accompanied her to sleep...in this double bed.
