Overseas internships have become lying down and recuperating, and being beaten is also a disease. The same disease comes like a mountain of illness and goes like a thread of tears.

People were beaten so ugly that Zong Hang was not even willing to leave the door. Every day, except watching TV shows and surfing the Internet, he spent a lot of time looking at his face in front of the mirror. From the ease of destruction to the hardship of rehabilitation, he thought about himself with some philosophical temperament.

Due to Zong Bisheng's attention, the internship progressed as usual, but it changed from on-site learning to verbal lectures from senior department employees. In order to make Zong Hang interested, the lectures were basically about cases. Anyway, the hotel has been open for a long time, and there are many top-notch receptions, and countless crisis treatments are handled. Anything that is taken out is gossip.

In the second week, Long Song reported to Zong Bisheng that Zong Hang had "transferred" from the front desk concierge to the room for internship, and also accompanied a photo of Zong Hang's work on his bed.

Of course it's a pose.

Zong Hang prefers the second week of internship content because the gossip of the guest room department is much more exciting than the front desk.

Every afternoon, after the room was finished, the middle-aged woman who spoke best in Chinese selected by the guest house department came to teach him:

"At first, an old man checked in, and later he called two masseurs to go up, and the bed was so loud that he could hear it outside. We were afraid that something would happen to the old man, so we specially called the doctor to this floor just in case..."

"The female student insisted that someone squatted on the head of her bed in the middle of the night and blew into her ears, so we changed her room..."

"We went to clean the room and saw that the rattan table was covered with blood on the terrace. Oh, it was like committing suicide. I was kind and asked her, "Madam, are you okay?" She smiled at me, making me feel cold... When I looked again, there were bloody cuts on my wrists, which were messy. This was a lunatic. Fortunately, she checked out, otherwise I was really afraid that she would die here. If someone died in the hotel, it would affect business..."

Zong Hang blushed for a while, and his spine became cold for a while.

The injury gradually improved, and life was also going ups and downs in gossip stories. The only thing that was not satisfactory was that Apa went to the old market every night, but never saw the woman Zong Hang mentioned.

Before we knew it, every time the two of them talked, they couldn't live without that woman. Zong Hang had never learned a psychological class in half, so he gave her psychological profiles every day:

——Generally, those who set up stalls in the old market area are locals. She is a Chinese and she must have problems and has complex backgrounds;

——Anti-social personality, shameless. Ordinary people are afraid of causing trouble. When they encounter this situation, at most they just say "I don't know" and it's over. She has no consciousness to create a harmonious society at all, so she wants to make trouble;

——Psychological distortion, who would stab the word "die" on the ankle? The feet are used to walk, and "die" one by one, which is so unlucky!

...

The analysis was so clear that he had an illusion that although he had never even met her, he had already seen through her heart, liver, spleen, lungs and kidneys.

After that, he didn't forget to urge Apa: "You can look for it quickly. If you can't find it, I'm not angry."

Yes, he is a typical "scar heals and forgets the pain" temperament. He makes iron while it is hot and mud while it is water. When Taobao receives rotten things, he jumps up and wants to give a bad review at that time, but he is too lazy to worry about trouble every two days.

Therefore, revenge must take advantage of the heat of grief and anger that has not dissipated - days pass by, the wounds stop hurting, life is more comfortable, and his anger gradually calms down. His heart that wants to be fair is not as turbulent as when he was beaten at first.

Occasionally, I can understand others with my own opinions: Old Man Ma wants to run away, of course he cheated him; if that woman is greedy for a small advantage, of course she sells him; if Cambodians are bleeding and hurt, of course she beat him up...

Damn I can't think anymore, it's all his fault.

***

That night, there was a lot of noise next door.

Zong Hang called the front desk: "Who is living next door to me? I'm on my honeymoon?"

The other end replied: "There is no one on the left, and there is a single male guest living on the right. He is a Chinese, twenty-seven years old, and his name is Ding... I don't know the word "."

To protect the guests, I will declare it to the outside world and dig deeper into the inside.

Zong Hang came back and said, "Has he summoned that?"

Then the end replied: "Hmm."

Just call it. Although Cambodia has not clearly stated that this matter is legal, it has always turned a blind eye to it.

Zong Hang lie back.

The wall at the head of the bed was thumping, as if it was about to collapse.

It is very important to solve physiological needs, but sleeping is also a physiological need, not to mention that he is still injured.

After being suppressed by Zong Bisheng for many years, Zong Hang was not used to violent resistance. His way of expressing anger was scratching his face and almost deceiving himself.

He knocked the wall with his hand and said, "Can you speak softly?"

If you can hear that end, then there will be a ghost.

Zong Hang comforted himself: How long can it take for one time? Just forget it if you get through it.

I never expected that counting sheep and counting sheep will last forever.

He finally became angry and turned over when he reached the limit, punching him on the wall: "Can you still let someone sleep?"

The anger was vented, but he was still the same. He himself was cowardly. Sometimes he felt that this was inappropriate, and sometimes he was afraid that he would shock his compatriots and tossed and turned, and it took him a long time to fall asleep.

***

During Zong Hang's recovery period, three meals a day were delivered to his home. The delivery waiter didn't know that he was sleeping the night before, so he came to his home on time the next day.

After receiving the meal, I wanted to sleep again, but said I couldn't sleep anymore, so I washed up and my head was drowsy, so I went to the terrace to blow the wind first.

I just stood up and my body was not relaxed yet. Someone next to me said, "You knocked on the wall last night?"

Zong Hang was so scared that he was shocked.

Turning back, a young Chinese woman of 25 or 26 years old stood on the terrace next door. She was wearing a semi-transparent leopard-print suspender petticoat. The pleated skirt was brushed against the snow-white thighs, the deep V front collar, and most of her breasts were exposed. There was a small red mole on one side of her breast, which was extremely charming and conspicuous.

Zong Hang quickly closed his eyes and turned his head, saying incoherently: "It's not me... You should wear more clothes too. Are you standing so high, aren't you afraid of seeing them?"

The woman didn't expect him to react, and she couldn't stand up straight: "I'm not afraid of people watching it. What are you afraid of? What era has you never seen a bikini."

Nonsense, can you be a bikini? Even if it's three o'clock, at least the place you should block is unambiguous. What about you, are you wearing your hair?

Zong Hang really didn't see it.

After a while, the woman said, "Hey, turn around, I'm wrapped."

Zong Hang was half-believing and half-doubted, afraid of being cheated. He closed his eyes tightly, narrowed his eyes and turned his head slowly as if he was aiming: It was true that she pulled out the white gauze curtain from the glass door and wrapped it around her body, wrapping the person like a huge silkworm cocoon, and showing her head.

The woman looked him up and down, her eyes curled into crescents.

She has seen countless people in this industry, and can tell at a glance whether a man is clean or a player. Zong Hang is too far from her world, but she is willing to get close to her, just like teasing a child for fun and relaxing herself.

Zong Hang said: "You are that..."

Halfway through the talk, I couldn't imagine a more tactful title.

The woman didn't care: "Yes."

Zong Hang was nervous, it was really.

In fact, in order to get out of the mud, he should stay away from such people, but he smiled at him with a good attitude. If he leaves, it will be very impolite.

Not far from the terrace, he leaned his head and looked into the glass door on the other end: "You...friend..."

"You said I am a guest. I went out early in the morning. I came from his country and came to Cambodia to find someone."

Looking for someone again, Zong Hang instantly remembered Old Man Ma.

"Then you... aren't leaving yet?"

"He said I had good massage skills and had packed me up for a week, and I stayed here all week... Hey, handsome guy, have you been beaten?"

It has been almost a month since my head and face have swelled, but the blood stasis still exists, including the fracture fixture placed on the ring finger of the left hand, like the sheath of the long nails of the Qing Palace Lao Fu, which is always stuck and raised. It is not the middle finger that is hurt.

Zong Hang said: "I went out to play, and the car overturned and fell."

The woman knew it: "Come on a trip, have you seen Angkor Wat? What do you like the most? Bantisle or Tablon?"

Zong Hang answered vaguely like listening to the Book of Heaven: "I haven't visited much yet, I want to read two books first and learn about it."

The woman guided him with ease: "You can take a look at Zhou Daguan's "True Text" and everyone here has a copy. If you want to learn about artistic appreciation, you can also read Jiang Xun's "The Beauty of Angkor"."

Zong Hang was a little confused and didn't know how to answer: he didn't know who Jiang Xun was, but when he heard this name and this book, he felt that he was very educated.

The woman seemed to have seen through his thoughts: "Why, people like me shouldn't read books, they should just circle men, money, cosmetics, and clothes every day?"

After saying that, before Zong Hang could open his mouth, he slammed the gauze curtain and entered the room.

Zong Hang's heart sank.

It was broken and offended, he had to explain. He didn't think she shouldn't read, he thought she couldn't read...

Just as she was thinking, the woman came out again. It turned out that she felt that she was hot and stuffy when she was wrapped in the gauze curtain, so she went back to change her clothes - she used her hands together, and was pulling and shaking the clothes she had over her head and piled under her armpits down from the position of her chest line...

The long skirt with a water-blue corrugated bottom with pink and large flowers instantly bleed down, slim waistline and woven flowers and embroidered briefs, pouring down all the way to the feet.

Then I walked onto the terrace. The colorful long skirt was densely colored. When it moved, the blue water was shimmering and the peach-colored brightness was bright.

She said: "I really like reading books written by cultural people. Do you know why?"

I don’t know, Zong Hang felt that his aura was suppressed by people, and shook his head honestly.

"Cultural people respect people and communicate freely. Most people look at me like this and think that you are shameless and shameless. Cultural people are different. They think you are willing, either you can't write "The Girl of Camellia" or "The Ball of Fat."

Zong Hang couldn't get into words, and he only heard of both books and had never read them.

He tried to make the topic more popular, otherwise he would expose his shallowness too much: "What's your name?"

"Well-sleeved."

"The one with a beautiful Chinese?"

"No, the well of the ancient well was originally called Jing Xiu, the beautiful Xiu, I thought it was too rustic and changed the sleeves of the water sleeves."

Jing Xiu said that she used to be a masseur in Kunming, and her boyfriend came to Cambodia first. She brags about this and makes money easy to earn. She gets angry and quit her job and comes.

Only then did I realize that I was fooled. If the person had limited ability, no matter how many places he moved, he would not be able to make a fortune. After several big quarrels, my boyfriend found a new love and she found a job as a Thai massage.

The environment is dirty, and those who are close to the ink are dark. In addition, they are not strong in their minds, so they will be pushed and put in half.

However, this time, it is not a person who has fallen into the water. According to her, if she is moved by the guest first, the other party is also interesting, and the man is in love with the concubine, then she doesn't mind having a spring breeze with the man she likes.

Zong Hang originally thought that those who do this job were forced by life or tired of circumstances, and there were unknown blood and tears behind them. When they saw Jing Xiu, they realized that it was his experience that limited his imagination.

She is a completely outlier, and she doesn't talk about it as she goes with the circumstances, and occasionally talks about it with relish.

For example, she was quite satisfied with the customers this time.

"Young, handsome, and beautiful muscles, unlike you, Zong Hang, you are now relying on your youth and have a good-looking face. In a few years, your flesh has become loose, your body has collapsed, and your belly has been thrust, so you can't see it."

Zong Hang rolled his eyes.

"He is from the north, I like northern men. And he said that his hometown is very close to the Hukou Waterfall in the Yellow River. Hukou Waterfall is a very special place when it sounds."
Chapter completed!