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Chapter 171 Description and Exploration of Neighbors

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    A French family moved in next door.  A French couple, a pair of seven or eight-year-old son and daughter.

    I even knocked on the door to say hello.  While the conversation was in full swing, the French gentleman suddenly changed his face, showing undisguised shock and nervousness on his face.

    I thought it was a cat wandering around, so I picked it up quickly.

    But he pointed to the piano in the corner of the living room, "When do you usually practice the piano? How long do you practice?"

    After hearing that it was just a decoration in the house, he showed a bright smile again, and he was completely relieved without concealing it.

    He complained about the apartment he lived in before. Every night when it was time to go to bed, the piano was played upstairs and the violin was played downstairs.

    Later, we occasionally chatted about the weather, current events, flowers and plants across the fence, and everything was fine.

    Two French children often come to see the cat.  I spoke English with them for a long time.  One day they hugged the cat and looked at me curiously, asking: Can you not speak Chinese?

    I was taken aback for a moment, of course I would.

    The two of them laughed, the elder sister pointed to the younger brother, and said in Chinese without an accent: He was born here, and his Chinese is very good.

    Later, the two little dolls and I started chatting in Chinese, only to realize that in addition to French, English and Chinese, they can also speak German and Italian

    Two nights ago, very late at night, I suddenly received a WeChat message from Mr. France, to the effect: Did you hear the knocking sound from the building?

    I didn't translate this sentence well. He wrote the original sentence in English, and wrote a long paragraph. The description is very specific, and it has the beauty of a sonnet.  But in the middle of the night, it seems that there are more horrors.

    I listened carefully, and there was indeed a faint knocking sound. I have heard it before. It is not very annoying, and generally it does not last for too long, and it is usually ignored automatically.

    I heard it too.  I return to him.

    Later he sent a longer paragraph, which is a description of the sound this noise is so irregular, in pace, in loudness

    In the middle of the night when everything is silent, reading such words makes my back feel a little chilly.

    What could it be?  I owe a sentence back.

    He replied quickly: Could it be a mouse?  And it should be those really big onesthere has been a lot of rain recently, they like to stay in places with a lot of wood

    In addition to a cold back, my scalp started to tingle.

    After a while, another long paragraph of text popped up, to the effect: Do you have children living upstairs?  The sound sounded more like a heavy ball falling to the ground, and less like the noise made by a big rat

    Upstairs lived an elderly couple, and there were no children at home.  I answered truthfully, and while I was typing, I squinted at the tree shadows with teeth and claws reflected on the curtain.

    He didn't stay silent for a long time, and quickly replied: Or is someone moving the flower pots?

    It's already past midnight, and there should be no one still looking after the plants.  My typing hands are a bit clumsy, so I turned on the headlight next to me.

    Wait, now it sounds like marbles, falling, bouncing, rolling He continued to describe it poetically.

    I simply got up and walked around, but didn't hear anything.  Looking at the phone again, it was another long paragraph.

    He said that he was in the yard and was observing the source of the sound. There is also a possibility that there is indeed a four or five-year-old child living upstairs above you.  Throwing a ball from different places, maybe from the table, the floor, the baby chaircrazy

    It was nothing after that, but I had a nightmare all night.  Marbles, invisible figures, rolling balls, flowerpots, furry unknown creatures

    did not mean to complain.  Some people are born sensitive to sound, coupled with rich imagination and persistent inquiry, they will combine trivial and irrelevant things or things into concrete plots.

    Thinking about it this way, that night, I could have spread the wings of my imagination too.  Not to mention sonnets, it would be harmless to tell him a short story in Strange Tales from a Liaozhai Studio.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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