Chapter: 397

Of course, he also knows that the sadness will not disappear, and the pain will not disappear, and they will come back in a short time. He can only try his best to adjust his mentality to face it, and prevent himself from falling into the previous state of near collapse.

As for a little extreme, crazy and self-destructive tendencies, he felt that it was inevitable, as long as it was not serious.

"I need regular psychological treatment in the follow-up, or I will go completely crazy before I complete my revenge and find a way to revive Aurora." Lumian sighed and got out of bed.

Just then, Lumian discovered a problem.

This newspaper is from last week.

The newspaper boy sold him expired newspapers!

"Many times, it is not a good thing to completely suppress the pain and despair in the bottom of the heart. Human beings need to vent and decompress..."

Suddenly, Lumian realized: this is part of psychotherapy!

"Ms. Susie first pointed out that my mental state was wrong and I had a strong tendency to self-destruct, and then gave some initial enlightenment with the hope of resurrecting Aurora. Finally, when I was indulging in the pain caused by this problem, she arranged for the newspaper boy to deliver the obituary published last week. It broke my defenses with bloody facts and let me vent the pain and despair suppressed deep in my heart..."

Lumian muttered to himself silently. After he figured it out, he was quite fortunate that he met a very professional and capable "psychiatrist", otherwise it would be very difficult for him to struggle out of the previous spiritual quagmire.

Lumian's eyes moved randomly, and saw a few bedbugs getting into his room.

His sense of smell told him that sulfur was lit in the next room to drive away the bedbugs, but most of the insects were afraid of being here and moved to another place.

Lumian couldn't help laughing when he thought of how he and his neighbor "hurt" each other on the first day they lived in, trying to get bedbugs into each other's room with sulfur.

He put on his leather shoes, walked out of the room, and came outside 206.

—— On the second floor of the Golden Rooster Hotel, there is a bathroom connected to rooms 201 to 204 in the alley on the back of the messy street, and another bathroom opposite 204, and then in the opposite direction 205 to 208. There is a relatively large balcony on both sides of the corridor, so except for the second floor, the third, fourth, and fifth floors have 10 rooms and two bathrooms.

"Who?" A slightly panicked voice came from inside.

"The one next door is 207." Lumian responded with a smile, "I want to meet my neighbor."

After a few seconds, the door opened with a creak, and a thin young man appeared in front of Lumian. He was less than 1.7 meters tall, wearing a whitewashed linen shirt and black suspender trousers, with large black-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his brown hair was messy and greasy, as if it hadn't been washed for several days, and his dark brown eyes showed an undisguised defense.

"What's the matter with you?" the man asked.

Dongdongdong, Lumian bent his fingers and knocked on the door of room 206.

Lumian smiled and stretched out his right hand, "I'm supposed to live here for a long time, and I want to get to know the neighbors around me." How do you call it? "The young man hesitated for a moment, but he stretched out his right palm and shook hands with Lumian: "Gabriel, what about you? "

"Char." Lumian looked inside Room 206 and asked curiously, "Why are you ordering sulfur now? It's evening, and I have to go find something to eat."

Gabriel pushed down his glasses and smiled bitterly: "I'm a playwright, and I'm planning to write all night."

"Writer?" Lumian raised his hand and touched his chin.

He gave up the idea of ​​giving the other party a little prank to defuse the strangeness between the neighbors.

Gabriel emphasized: "Playwrights, writers who specialize in writing plays for various theaters."

"Sounds great." Lumian praised sincerely, "I admire people who can write stories, and my idol is a writer."

Seeing the sincere eyes of the other party, Gabriel was a little embarrassed by the praise.

He scratched his already messy brown hair, sighed and said: "This business is not as good as you imagined. I spent a lot of energy on the last play, and I thought it was not much worse than those classic plays, but it was not as good as you thought. A theater manager would love to take a look.

"I have read many biographies or interviews of writers. Most of them have the experience of not being appreciated and living in cheap hotels or small attics. I believe that one day you will find someone who is willing to read your script and eventually become a famous playwright."