Chapter 1414

Zhang Heng opened his eyes and found himself in a slightly dark alley.

At the end of the road is a small brick building high on both sides. It seems that it has been a long time. Zhang Heng can only infer from the building materials and style that it was built after the 19th century.

Instead of rushing in, he looked around again and saw the pedestrians, the cigarette vendor and the grocery store across the lane. Just as he wanted to continue to look, a burst of thunder came from the sky, indicating that there would be a rainstorm soon.

So Zhang Heng did not stay in the same place, and finally moved to the brick building.

The small building is much quieter than Zhang Heng imagined. There is only orange light in the crack of the door, and there is no noise.

Zhang Heng knocked on the door.

A moment later, a housekeeper like middle-aged man leaned out of the door, "what can I do for you?"

"I received an invitation to come here for the salon." Zhang Heng said here, his eyes around the housekeeper like middle-aged man fell behind him in the living room, found that there was empty, there were no guests.

"Sorry, am I early?"

"No The middle-aged man, who looked like a housekeeper, said with a smile, "the salon has already started, but it's not here. Can you show me your initiation token?"

"Initiation token?" Zhang Heng frowned slightly. On the way here, he had checked his pocket. Except for the props he brought, he didn't find anything extra. But Zhang Heng soon thought of something and took out Conan Doyle's pen.

The housekeeper like middle-aged man took the pen, put on his glasses, looked at it carefully, and then handed it back to Zhang Heng respectfully with two hands, "welcome to the house of genius, please follow me."

Zhang Heng follows the housekeeper like middle-aged man into the room, and then they walk through the living room and into the yard. The housekeeper like middle-aged man opens a gloomy cellar that looks like the one used by the murderer villain in the horror movie to imprison the hero, and then makes a gesture of please.

"Seriously?" Zhang Heng raised his eyebrows.

"Don't look at me, bravado and dramatization have always been authors' favorites." The middle-aged housekeeper shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't been able to understand this kind of bad taste."

Zhang Heng smell speech and looked at the foot of the big iron lock, there are still some looks like blood like red.

"Don't worry, the ochre paint."

"It's very impressive." Zhang Heng commented.

Finish saying is also no longer hesitant, stride into.

It has to be said that although the atmosphere in front of the cellar door is terrible, the environment inside is actually pretty good. It's just a little humid, but the air is unobstructed, and there is no peculiar smell except the smell of some soil.

For a tunnel, we can't ask for more.

The two walked for about five minutes, and the terrain began to rise again. Then the middle-aged man, who looked like a housekeeper, stopped in front of a pair of iron ladders and gave the oil lamp in his hand to Zhang Heng for safekeeping, while he pushed open the well cover above his head.

At this time, rain drops had fallen in the sky. They went back to the street from the ground. As soon as they climbed out, Zhang Heng saw a carriage by the side of the road.

The housekeeper like middle-aged man took back the oil lamp from Zhang Heng's hand, "I can only accompany you here, and then Martin will send you to the salon."

"Martin? Is this the terrier in the adventures of goose riding? What about you? I haven't asked your name before

"Consell." The middle-aged man, who looked like a housekeeper, laughed and then bowed, "I sincerely wish you a spring of thought every day."

"Twenty thousand miles under the sea is really appropriate, thank you."

After saying goodbye to Kangsaier, Zhang Heng boarded the carriage. When he closed the door, Martin, the coachman, also grasped the reins in his hand.

As soon as Zhang Heng got on the bus and smelled the fragrance of jasmine, he became drowsy. However, this drowsiness is different from that of inhaling a lot of anesthetics. Zhang Heng knows that he can wake up at any time, which is more like a pastime prepared for worrying that his journey is too boring.

So Zhang Heng also relaxed his body, put his head on the carriage and had a rest for a moment.

I don't know how long it took for the carriage to stop again.

This time, it stops on a lawn. Martin opens the door for Zhang Heng. What appears in front of Zhang Heng is a huge mansion, which is built in the middle of the mountain and covers an amazing area.

Zhang Heng just glanced at the garden, swimming pool, woods and even a golf course.

This time, standing in front of the gate to meet him is a housekeeper, but she is very small, less than four feet tall, petite, with pointed ears, but with a pair of big feet, and hardly makes any sound when walking.

A name immediately appeared in Zhang Heng's head.

Hobbits.This is a fantasy race created by British writer and poet Tolkien in his novel the Lord of the rings.

"It seems that you have recognized my origin, the most expensive guest," said the housekeeper of the hobbit. "Just don't know what I should call you?"

Without waiting for Zhang Heng to speak, she immediately added, "you don't need to give your real name. Here we all call each other by pen names or the names of the characters in their books."

"Zhang Heng."

The housekeeper of the Hobbit had a look of surprise on her face.

"I'm actually working on a novel, and that's the name of the hero of my new novel." Zhang Heng light way.

"I'm sure you'll find a lot of inspiration here." Said the housekeeper, opening the door behind her.

This time, before entering the door, Zhang Heng heard the messy sound coming from inside.

"If you want me to say, all the popular novels, one of them is a piece of shit! The author of popular novels is the dog that produces excrement. The only thing they can do is to shake their tail and cater to the public's bad aesthetic and abnormal appreciation ability without bottom line! It is because of their existence that the threshold of this industry is infinitely lowered. " A high pitched male voice said.

"I don't agree, Mr. illegitimate son. The purpose of our writing is not to be against the public. I don't deny that some excellent works beyond the age were seriously underestimated at that time. However, you can't hate those authors who made money just because you didn't make any money in your life." Said a strong female voice.

"There's no doubt that what I'm talking about is you, Professor McGonagall, and what you've written just proves what I'm saying!"

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