这是世界雾都伦敦的周末早晨,大地还在浓雾中沉睡,忙碌了一周的人们还在悠闲地编织着他们的美梦,这使得位于伦敦3区的华人居住区静得简直让人窒息。这时,住在6楼9号的史密斯·陈在工厂上了一宿的夜班,拖着疲惫不堪的身躯缓缓从1楼爬了上来。史密斯·陈的上楼声打破了早晨的寂静,也给整栋大楼带来了一丝生机。当史密斯·陈来到自家门口时,一股刺鼻的煤气味使他的神经一下子绷紧了:难道是自己家的煤气阀没关好?一种不祥的预感紧紧罩住了他。他先按响了自家的门铃,没有一点动静,难道老婆、孩子……史密斯·陈不敢再往下想,他急忙用钥匙打开了房门,一个箭步冲了进 This is a foggy morning on London’s weekend. The earth is still sleeping in thick fog. The busy people are still leisurely weaving their dreams, which makes the Chinese residential area in London’s City 3 simply suffocating. At this time, Smith Chen, who lived on the 9th floor on the 6th floor, spent the night in the factory overnight, dragging his exhausted body slowly up from the first floor. The upstairs of Smith Chan broke the silence of the morning and brought a whole new lease of life to the whole building. When Smith Chan came to his door, a pungent smell of gas so that his nerves suddenly tightened: Is it our family’s gas valve is not good? An ominous foreboding tightly cover him. He first rang his own doorbell, no movement, do not wife, children ... ... Smith Chen did not dare to think down, he hurriedly opened the door with a key, a stride rushed forward