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The wooden door creaked open. Google search reading

The little girl who opened the door was as thin as a stick, and she playfully hung her entire body weight on the door handle.

When she found that she opened the door and let in three well-dressed strange men, she hid behind the door and secretly looked at Fan Ning and his party with her dark eyes.

The house had only one front window and was sealed on three sides, preventing air convection. Fan Ning smelled the smell of cooked food starch, which was mixed with the smell of smoke, meat, and a wet smell similar to dirty clothes soaked in synthetic detergent for too long. Mixed together firmly, it's very uncomfortable.

It was equally cold inside and outside the room. An oil lamp and a few candles gave dim light, allowing people to at least see where the objects were.

Two policemen whose clothes were very familiar to Fan Ning were sitting on two small stools at the door, with their legs spread and their waists hunched over, puffing away in boredom. After seeing a few people, they quickly got up and put on a pair of clothes. In a serious and respectful tone: "Mr. Dupont, Mr. Monroe, good evening, we have been waiting for you...Who is this gentleman?"

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Dupont still took out his ID, which had a steel stamp from the Special Patrol Office stamped with the scrawled signature of "Poglarich".

This means that this person has priority over the police department when investigating security incidents, and it also means that the imperial authorities agree to partially lend the social security police force to the official organization of knowledgeable people.

Then he nodded lightly and said hello and introduced: "This is our new member, Mr. Carolne Van Ning."

Fan Ning was choked by the smell of cigarettes and covered his mouth and coughed a few times. The two policemen threw the newly lit cigarettes on the ground and stamped them out: "Mr. Caroln Fan Ning, please give me more advice in the future." Work."

The word formal "member" makes their attitude very low.

This room was less than two-thirds of Fan Ning's office, but it was packed with eight or nine people, barely divided into three areas with rotten wooden curtains. At this moment, five more outsiders came. Everyone stared at each other, almost unable to make a move.

In the "bedroom", the laborer's wife was sitting on the edge of the bed covered with newspapers and gray cotton. Her pupils were a little out of focus and she didn't want to avoid suspicion. The baby in her arms was desperately sucking her withered chest. On the inside of the bed, a human-shaped bulge had appeared. Covered by blanket.

Next to the "bathroom" where the excrement bucket is placed is a clothes rack and a shabby staircase. There is also a small storage attic of six or seven square meters above. An older boy is sitting on the ground above, with his feet on the steps, weaving a fishing net.

"Zizzizi..."

The male owner who had just finished work in the "kitchen" was making "bread, oil and fat". He grilled a piece of fat bacon on an angled iron plate, and used brown bread to catch the dripping hot fat, and then cut it into slices. Put it in an iron basin - this is an alternative method to serve as cheese. It not only brings a meaty flavor to the staple food, but also provides some necessary fat for the human body.

"Boles, stop working now." The policeman greeted.

Laborer Boles turned around with a black towel draped over his shoulders and an iron basin filled with black bread.

This is a man with thick eyebrows and big eyes. His face is darkened by paint. His expression is dull. There is exhaustion and sadness in his eyes, but he asks: "Gentlemen, have you eaten? I can make another one." Vegetable or pea soup.”

"I want you to tell the commander about the situation." The policeman quickly reminded.

The little girl who had opened the door trotted over in a tactful manner, tiptoed to take the iron basin from her father's hand, and distributed "bread and oil" to her brother who was working in the attic.

Dupont opened the folder in his hand again: "Which of you have dreamed of this face?"

"My wife and I, and our dead eldest daughter Lianka, the three of us." Boles replied expressionlessly.

"When did it start?"

"It might have been there for a while at first, but it must have been quite a long time...because it was intermittent, so I didn't notice it. It became more frequent recently before I noticed it, um...it became more frequent half a month ago..."

Boles's words were a bit repetitive and trivial: "It should have been twenty days ago, um... this number is more accurate. Our factory settles last month's wages on the 10th of every month, and the time becomes more frequent not long after the 10th of November..." It's only the 1st of this month, and the wages haven't been settled yet, so Lianka can't be buried for the time being. A 'narrator' has been hired... Her monthly salary during her lifetime was much higher than mine, but it was all used to treat her younger brothers and sisters. …Well, the wages haven’t been settled yet, but I won’t wait for 10 days. I’ve borrowed some money now…”

"Then tell me, during this period, have you come into contact with any strange people or information?" Dupont listened patiently to what he said, and then calmly continued to ask, "I mean, are there any external stimuli that you think may be possible? What caused this dream?”

Polis said: "Actually, I heard about it a long time ago. When I was chatting with my neighbors and co-workers, they talked about this strange dream and described it. Then I dreamed it, and then I had it again. Told my wife..."

The three of them looked at each other.

"Most of the people we investigated before had their own dreams after hearing others talk about them." Lawyer Monroe said.

Fan Ning recalled the Special Investigation Department file he saw in the art museum. He still remembered the press conference organized by the authorities: the spokesman complained that nothing had happened to him, but since accepting the case, he had to face the file every day. That face, and then I often dreamed about it.

He used the spokesperson's words and said: "So... this matter has now objectively formed a group memory. It may be difficult to judge whether there are mysterious factors by asking about experiences. After all, dreams are originally memories of reality. projection."

Fan Ning thought about this matter carefully later. He believed that if he could go back to his previous life and use his abilities as an ordinary person, use some knowledge of psychology and hypnosis, and cooperate with a few people to make some careful plans, he might be able to achieve this on a small scale. effect.

What he is more curious about now is not "why is this happening", but "why is this happening".

"Well... unless the source of the sharing can be found, but it is almost impossible to find out in this case because everyone has become a sharer of their own experience." Dupont agreed with this view.

He walked to another bed in the "bedroom" where the laborer's wife was: "So, the focus now is to investigate the bizarre death, and by the way, ask about the dream."

Fan Ning followed up in two steps and smelled a more special smell of decay.

Two old men in their dying years were lying on their backs on the bed, with a few incomplete ragged blankets spread over them, and some messy old clothes added on top to create a relatively thick layer of covering.

Their gray hair was scattered, their expressions were somewhat painful, their eyes were closed, their mouths were open, and they were desperately breathing air.

"Sorry sir, Lianka is on that bed, and these are my parents." Laborpolis motioned to his wife on the other bed to move her seat, and continued to explain, "Actually, I don't have to worry about food...well, In recent years, the life of our workers has been getting better and better... We all have families to go to, and we won't starve to death... But my parents are almost 60 years old, and food can't cure their injuries... The weather is a bit cold this winter, I don't know if I can resist it. I can survive it..."

The woman holding the baby in her arms and breastfeeding slowly stood up in silence, letting the two large and small bulges inside the bed come into Fan Ning's field of vision.

"What is this...?" Fan Ning pointed to the small bulge and asked doubtfully.

"He died this morning." Boles' tone was as calm as a pool of stagnant water. "My second-to-last son had severe diarrhea recently... He just started to speak some sentences during this period... Well, he could only speak words before. And the phrase... He couldn't eat anything recently. After getting up in the morning and feeding him some pea soup, he was about to go to work and found that his body was cold. "

Fan Ning fell into a long silence.

Everything will be fine?

I wanted to say something to comfort this man, but I felt like I didn't believe it, so I didn't speak after all.

He leaned into the bed and pulled away a corner of the blanket covering the female worker Lianka from the side.

The skinny arm was exposed, causing Fan Ning's pupils to shrink suddenly.

The corpse glowed with green fluorescence in the dim light!