"Hahaha!" Feng Zhigang smiled. From the perspective of psychiatrist Teng Jie, Feng Zhigang's smile came from the heart and was a happy smile.
Feng Zhi just put down the kettle, walked over quickly, opened the gate for Teng Jie, and made a gesture of invitation.
"Great writer, please come in!" Feng Zhigang's tone was a little excited.
Teng Jie walked in and went directly to the flower bed. He glanced at the flowers inside, with a hint of warmth in his eyes.
"Do you also like Yiju?" Teng Jie reached out to a flower and made a gesture of pinching the branch, but he did not actually pinch it.
"Well!" Feng Zhi just came behind Teng Jie and stared at the man who was a head taller than him.
He noticed that Teng Jie's slender fingers did not actually hold the flower branches. He knew that Teng Jie was afraid of touching the young chrysanthemum branches.
This is a true flower lover!
Teng Jie retracted his hand and looked at the door of the villa, "I heard Lu Wan said that the coffee here is delicious?"
"Hahaha!" Feng Zhigang showed a knowing smile again and made an inviting gesture again.
The two came to the living room one after another. Teng Jie sat directly on the sofa, while Feng Zhigang went to grind coffee for Teng Jie.
After a while, Feng Zhigang came over with two cups of steaming coffee.
Taking the coffee from Feng Zhigang's hand, Teng Jie took a sip. He was shocked again, "Very authentic coffee beans."
Feng Zhigang didn't say anything, just sat aside and looked at Teng Jie quietly.
He knew that Teng Jie came here for his case.
Teng Jie looked at Feng Zhigang. From the face of this 37-year-old man, he saw expectations, surprises, and some trepidation.
"Do you have a hand-painted painting here?" Teng Jie asked.
"Yes, in the study room." Feng Zhi just nodded. This time, without waiting for Teng Jie's request, he stood up and made a gesture of invitation.
Teng Jie held the handle of the coffee cup with one hand and held the bottom of the cup with the other. He stood up and walked towards the steps leading to the second floor.
When he came to the study room on the second floor, the first thing Teng Jie saw was his works on the bookshelf, and then he saw the painting that Lu Wandian had mentioned.
Arriving in front of the picture frame, Teng Jie carefully observed the wheat field in the dark night. Feng Zhigang on the side was also holding a coffee cup and looking at Teng Jie expectantly.
Feng Zhigang's expectations were shattered because he saw Teng Jie shake his head and heard him sigh.
Teng Jie took a sip of coffee and said, "I've always wanted to come and see this painting when I heard Lu Wan mention it that day. Due to various reasons, I can't come here today. It's a pity..."
"What's the pity?" Feng Zhigang heard that Teng Jie's pity was not that he never came over, but the painting. "Is there anything wrong with this painting? I feel that it matches "The Secret of the Night" very well!"
"The corpse is in the wheat field. The angle of the painting is from the roadside, but with my non-professional perspective, I can't see where the corpse is." Teng Jie shook his head, "Although Bai Mo reminded me that there is something in the wheat field." There was a vacancy, but I still couldn’t find it at first glance.”
Teng Jie looked back at Feng Zhigang, "The secret of the night must have been discovered, otherwise the body would not have been found, but you perfectly hid the body in the wheat field. Don't you think it goes against the idea of this book?"
Feng Zhigang did not refute. He admitted that what Teng Jie said was reasonable. People like Teng Jie who have strict requirements on their works would definitely care about this loophole. He indeed ignored this issue.
When he came to the desk, Feng Zhi just put the coffee cup on the desk, sat on the swivel chair, and looked at Teng Jie silently.
Teng Jie also followed, took a sip of coffee, put down the coffee cup, and leaned against the table.
"Sometimes, the content of the painting is an expression of the painter's personal views. Can I interpret it as saying that you just want to hide the sin in this wheat field?" Teng Jie asked.
Feng Zhigang nodded in admiration, "After you came here, you went from looking at flowers to drinking coffee, and then came here to look at my hand-painted paintings, just to elicit this sentence, right?"
Teng Jie opened his hands and faced Feng Zhigang, "Don't you need to check?"
"No need." Feng Zhigang knew that Teng Jie asked him if he wanted to confirm that Teng Jie had monitoring equipment on him. "Technology is so advanced now that I don't even believe what I see."
"I understand!" Teng Jie secretly sighed at Feng Zhigang's caution. He looked at the paintings on the wall again, "Then let's talk in a different way. Can you stop painting?"
Stopping drawing means no more drawings, which means no more people will die.
"Why?" Feng Zhigang looked dissatisfied. He pointed to the hand-painted paintings on the wall. "Although I can't express your thoughts, but speaking of painting skills, is there anything wrong with my hand-painted paintings?"
"That depends on what you record." Teng Jie tried his best to keep his tone as calm as possible.
"What I record is the scene in your fantasy." Feng Zhigang said, "Your words, coupled with my hand-drawn illustrations, don't you think it will make your book fuller and more vivid?"
"But why did you choose that novel?" Teng Jie sighed, "That novel is too bloody, it shouldn't be that one."
"That's a great question!" Feng Zhigang sneered, "I think everyone has a deep memory of the first thing they do. Many things they do for the first time come from the heart. After all, if there is no desire in the heart, , it can’t happen for the first time.”
Teng Jie nodded slightly and admitted that what Feng Zhigang said made sense.
The first time many people do something they have never done before, it must be because they have an idea in their mind.
For example, in the first novel Teng Jie wrote, he just felt that suspense novels should be so bloody, but later he had to change himself due to various reasons.
For example, when Feng Zhigang killed someone for the first time, he killed someone because he wanted to kill someone...
Thinking of this, Teng Jie looked at Feng Zhigang with difficulty. He seemed to understand the other meaning of Feng Zhigang's sentence.
Feng Zhi just pointed at Teng Jie, and then laughed. This time his smile was completely different from before, it was an evil smile.
"You must have thought of it, yes, that's the one!" Feng Zhigang's tone became excited, "I particularly like your early novels because the serial killers in them are very pure!"
"Those serial killers kill just for the sake of killing. What they pursue is excitement and the pleasure of excessive secretion of adrenaline. This is what serial killers should be like!"
"But what about the past few years? What have you written in recent years? Every serial killer has a tragic life experience or experience. It seems that they have no choice but to kill, and it is all excusable! I don't know you at all, I even suspect that someone is ghostwriting the books written by the great writer Teng Jie.”
Feng Zhigang became more and more excited as he talked, his face flushed, and he was venting all his dissatisfaction.
