394 Chapter 48, Social Survey

During meditation, you don't know the passage of time, and you don't know how long it has been. Hoffa felt Miller shaking himself gently beside him, so he slowly woke up from his meditation.

The time came to night again.

But it was completely different from the stormy night yesterday, today's night was so calm, so calm that people couldn't believe it, even the sea water under the wooden frame seemed to be asleep, without any fluctuations.

"Look, Hoffa."

Miller pointed to the sky beside Hoffa and called out softly.

Hoffa looked up and saw a sight that he will never forget all his life.

The sky presents an extremely magnificent dark blue, and in the dark blue, a bright silver band of light passes through the middle, and in the band of light, countless stars, big and small, are shining brightly. They are so bright and clear that even the blue-purple nebulae can be seen clearly.

Hoffa opened his mouth slightly, and fell into a daze for a while.

"Wow!! Hoffa!! Look!! There are also shooting stars!!"

Miller excitedly took Hoffa's arm like a child, and pointed to the brilliant shooting star across the sky.

Hoffa naturally saw the meteor passing by silently, and the corners of his eyes were a little moist.

The meteor disappeared into the sea in just a moment.

Below the surface of the sea, some nocturnal jellyfish and fish swim silently under the wooden frame. They exude the faint phosphorescence unique to deep-sea creatures.

Miller looked at the stars in the sky, and at the phosphorescent fish in the deep sea under his feet, and couldn't help moaning. He took off his shoes, put his feet in the slightly cool sea water, leaned on Hoffa's back, and sighed softly.

At this moment, it seemed that only the two of them were left in the vast and boundless world. All the starry sky and this silent ocean were silently blooming for them.

"Hoffa."

Miller leaned on Hoffa's back and softly called his name.

"Um."

Hoffa threw his head back, answering Miller's call.

"Tell me, do we still have a chance to sit and look at the stars like this?"

Miller asked softly, his voice was almost completely different from his usual state.

"Sure, there will be plenty of time when I defeat Sylby."

Hoffa said softly, "We can watch it as many times as we want."

"Where would you go if that was the case?" Miller asked.

"Well."

Hoffa thought for a while, and suddenly realized that these things were not so shameful, and that was the truest thought in his heart.

"I want to go fifty years later." He said softly, "Miller, too."

"Pfft."

Miller leaned on Hoffa's back and chuckled: "I'm not that powerful. I'll be old in fifty years, and no one will be around."

"Who said, here it is."

Hoffa said.

"It's as if you've seen it before." Miller murmured.

Hoffa didn't speak, Miller turned his head and asked curiously: "Hey, Hoffa, have you really seen me?"

"Ah, I've seen. Just"

Hoffa muttered to himself: "Who has seen your real appearance?"

Sensing something in Hoffa's words, Miller slowly lowered his head.

After a moment of silence, Miller said hesitantly, "Hoffa, have you ever thought about it?"

"Thought what?"

Miller's lips twitched, but he hesitated to speak.

"talk."

Miller waved his hands irritably.

"forget it. I'm done here."

This made Hoffa even more curious, and he lightly touched Miller with the back of his head: "Let's talk if you have something to say, it's not the first day we've known each other."

Miller: "Never mind what Selby is doing."

"ah?"

Hoffa couldn't understand Miller for a moment: "Why?"

"Forget it, just think I just farted."

Miller said quickly.

Hoffa recalled, he smiled and asked, "Don't you also care about Miranda's prophecy?"

"I don't care about anything, I don't care about anything, stop being sentimental." Miller returned to his usual loose but sharp appearance.

"Is it."

Hoffa smiled.

Miller waved his hand irritably: "Can you? You have already lost once in the dream, how do you know you will win this time?"

Hoffa was in a daze for a moment, as if he had stepped on the air. The memory was once again wrapped in white light, he gritted his teeth, and forcefully threw those bad experiences out of his mind.

"Why not, if Tom Riddle hadn't appeared last time, he would have died. But this time with your help, even if Tom Riddle made another shot, he would have died!" Hoffa said firmly.

Miller sighed, "Forget it, if you say you can, then you can. Don't get me wrong. This is not important to me. It would be a good experience to witness you die in reality. But , don’t let my sister see, she is not as interested as me.”

Hoffa took a deep breath and stood up. Although the beautiful scenery makes people reluctant to part, it also makes him understand that he still has a lot of things to do.

"Now is not the time to look at the scenery, let's go." He said.

Miller stood up with his shoes on, and Hoffa stooped. Miller pouted, hooked Hoffa's shoulders, and lay on his back.

Then, Thunderbird took off again. Hoffa carried Miller on his back, carried his own small raft, and under the guidance of the Polaris, he rowed across the tranquil sea and flew all the way to his destination.

Along the way, naturally not every moment is as peaceful as that night. Hoffa and Miller experienced the insolation that could not hide, the hunger that could not catch fish, and the loss that could not tell the direction. Guidelines.

Finally, on the sixth day, they arrived in Genoa, Italy, in the Mediterranean Sea.

At this moment, Hoffa no longer has confidence in the confidentiality of the news. If Sylby’s news is normal, he must have heard the news that the Presbyterian Hospital was destroyed. Asking himself, Hoffa feels that he will not foolishly keep his assets in the In the same place, it is sure to transfer or disperse quickly.

But Hoffa still decided to come to this place. No matter what Sylby thought, as long as there was an action, there would be clues, and he must at least find clues.

Apparating from the sea to the busy port of Genoa, there are far more people than Hoffa imagined. Busy cruise ships by the sea, hot air balloons flying in the sky, groups of Fiats on the road, and passengers in bright and bright clothes.

Hoffa stood on the port, his mental force field covered the area he could encircle, and kept scanning. He was looking for a place like New York Harbor, but he looked around, but it was only the area he searched, and there was no similar place.

The hardships along the way had already made Miller unbearable. As soon as he landed, he went straight to the ice cream shop on the side of the road and bought more than a dozen ice creams in a row. Afterwards, he stood beside Hoffa, with an ice cream between each finger, licking it and eating it. While eating, he also persuaded Hoffa to enjoy it with him.

But Hoffa turned a blind eye to the ice cream that Miller handed over. He strode toward the city along the old streets of Genoa, searching for traces of abnormal existence along the way.

The streets of the city are full of antique goose-yellow buildings, and the criss-crossing antennas run through the rooms. Not only is there no clutter, but it adds a lot of life atmosphere to the city. From time to time, someone pushed open the window and hung clothes to dry on the antenna.

On the elegant window sill, some old artists with crossed legs are gracefully plucking the guitar strings. On the arm floor, there are couples lying on the balcony, listening carefully to the music in the building.

Hoffa's mental force field swept through the building, even the ground, but he didn't find anything unusual. Compared to when he was in New York, this place was more like an ordinary tropical seaside vacation. City.

After walking all the way until Miller finished eating the ice cream, Hoffa didn't find any surprises. Miller went to the street to buy some meat sausages, and chewed them to watch the scenery. Compared to the worried Hoffa, he is more like a tourist on vacation.

Hoffa changed direction and continued to search. Miller chewed the sausage, looked around and said, "Don't tell me, Hoffa, this place is beautiful, the pace is slow, and the scenery is good. If I make money by myself in the future, I also want to be here living in this place.”

Hearing what Miller said, Hoffa couldn't help but feel a slight movement in his heart, and stopped.

Miller bumped into Hoffa. "Huh? What's wrong?"

Hoffa looked at the bustling shops around him, opened his mouth slightly, and was stunned for a while. Suddenly, he walked into a shop selling newspapers, reached out and took a newspaper and read it. Most of the newspapers were entertainment and gossip. Nothing real.

He asked his boss for a pen, and while he was reading the newspaper, he walked to a chair near a coffee shop down the street and sat down.

Miller quickly paid the bill for Hoffa, then came to Hoffa and asked, "Have you discovered anything new?"

"How much is a newspaper?"

Hoffa asked.

"100 lire," Miller said, "but I paid in dollars, and the boss is happy. Dollars are worth a lot."

"It's cheap," Hoffa muttered.

He read the newspaper from cover to cover, then walked to the fruit stand by the road, picked up an apple, and asked, "How much is an apple per catty?"

"500 lire." The boss said in half-baked English while gesturing.

Hoffa didn't buy apples. He went to a boutique selling ham, took a pen, and recorded the price of ham on the counter on paper. After recording the price of ham, he went to a flour shop and began recording the prices of flour and cornmeal.

Miller was confused by Hoffa's actions, and he had no idea what Hoffa was doing. He could only follow behind him in confusion, running up and down the street. Hoffa recorded the past all the way, and finally ran to an Italian restaurant on the side of the road.

He looked at the brightly colored restaurant on the wall, and while recording the price, he asked the boss to order the most classic Margherita pizza.

Miller watched Hoffa's behavior from the side, and said, "You finally got the hang of it, you want to eat pizza if you don't eat anything, right? Tell me earlier, it's not like New York doesn't have pizza."

Hoffa ignored him.

After sitting at the dining table, he also writes and draws in the newspaper.

Miller didn't know what medicine was sold in Hoffa's gourd, so he could only sit next to him, eating sausage, and watching Hoffa's series of strange movements.

Not long after, the owner placed a steaming classic Margherita pizza on Hoffa's table, along with two glasses of apple cider. Just after the waiter finished talking slowly, Hoffa stopped him and asked, "Excuse me, how much do you pay for working here for a month?"

The pretty waitress was slightly taken aback by Hoffa's question, and then he said, "Eight hundred thousand lire, what's the matter?"

"Are you satisfied?" Hoffa asked.

"Very satisfied." The waiter nodded and asked curiously, "Excuse me, who are you?"

"We are the government's social investigators, and we are collecting data for a new round of welfare policies." Hoffa said nonsense, and Miller listened in a daze.

But the waitress was very happy, she said: "Really, that's great, but I think the current salary is not bad, there is no need to add a special welfare policy, what do you think?"

"I think what you say makes sense."

Hoffa said.

"Please enjoy."

The waitress turned and left.

As soon as the pretty waitress left, Hoffa dropped the pen, his eyes dark as water.

Miller couldn't figure out what Hoffa was doing until now. He asked, "My Mr. Bach, what are you doing?"

Hoffa pointed to the old residential building outside the glass window, and said calmly, "Don't you like blowing up buildings? Blow up the building next to you."