Strange game designer

"I don't have a chance to kill you?"

Gao Ming felt that something was wrong with Xia Yang's state. The other person's name contained Midsummer and Nuan Yang, but his inner personality was like an abyss that light could never reach. No one could guess his true inner thoughts.

"Fatalism seems ridiculous to me. I never dwell on the past, nor do I believe in the future. I only care about the present that can be firmly grasped." Drops of red paint fell from Xia Yang's body, taking his skin with it. , he is like a piece of ice that is slowly melting: "Various facts prove that you have indeed seen the future. You have the opportunity to kill me from the other side of time. No matter how you look at it, I have no chance of winning." .”

"So what are you going to do?" Gao Ming remained vigilant. If someone else knew that he was being hunted, he might try his best to escape or try to resist, but Xia Yang was different.

"I want to create a future that you haven't seen before. You can't kill me or get rid of me. I will make you a new me." Xia Yang's warm smile made people shudder, and the skin on his face had fallen off. Most of it.

"What psychiatrists are most afraid of is a patient who has no self-awareness. He has a mental disorder but does not admit that he is ill. He also wants to work hard to convince the doctor and the people around him, so that everyone will follow him and go crazy." Gao Ming When you see such patients, just don't think about what they say.

"Madmen can only talk nonsense, but I am different." Xia Yang's body melted faster and faster, and his bones and flesh turned into red paint. Thin blood threads connected him to the entire red room: "I will go Turn your thoughts into reality, you will never be able to kill me, I will always watch you and silently change you until I can be reborn in your body."

Xia Yang completely melted, like a piece of ice put into boiling water. His body turned into red paint and blended into the room, disappearing completely.

In the blood-red room, the self-portrait painted with his heart's blood is full of color.

Xia Yang in the painting is lifelike, and he seems to be saying something to Gao Ming.

"I'm really tired of thinking." Gao Ming's hand on his heart slowly dropped. He was ready for a battle, but Xia Yang seemed to know that he was no match for Gao Ming.

Standing in front of the self-portrait, Gao Ming stared at the portrait and observed. He was attracted by Xia Yang's face.

After staring for a long time, Xia Yang's mouth seemed to move.

Gao Ming concentrated his attention to hear clearly, but in the next moment he was pulled into a deeper painting.

The blood paintings on the real wall are of the living room and the second floor; the background of Xia Yang's self-portrait in the blood paintings is the bedroom; Gao Ming is now standing in the painting within the painting.

There was a coffin placed in the middle of the bedroom. Xia Yang's body was lying in it, with shadows and various flowers under it. His hands were crossed, and between the ten fingers was a black and white photo.

"Xia Yang was already dead before I came?"

Gao Ming checked for a long time, but he couldn't find the cause of Xia Yang's death. The other party's body functions had completely stopped. However, compared to death in the physiological sense, Xia Yang seemed to have been brain-dead very early.

Picking up the photo of Xia Yang's body, Gao Ming saw a very absurd scene.

In the black-and-white posthumous photo, Xia Yang's corpse is holding a brush and a drawing board, painting the living self.

There are many ways to interpret this photo. It can also be seen as the corpse drawing a soul for itself; death marking itself with the meaning of existence; despair drawing hope with its own hands, etc.

Gao Ming couldn't understand Xia Yang's photo, but he discovered something special about it.

The corpse in the photo was in color, and the painting on the corpse gradually turned into color as Xia Yang's vitality continued to drain away.

Gao Ming had never seen such a black and white photo of the deceased before. Under a certain influence, it seemed that this black and white photo would soon turn into a photo full of color.

"Xia Yang sacrificed himself? Completed the photo?"

Looking at the back of the photo, the words on the photo were smeared out with blood. Gao Ming tried to clean up the blood. Cracks began to appear in the entire room in the painting, and all the blood converged towards the black and white photo in Gao Ming's hand.

The rooms that were painted layer by layer turned into blood again. When the last trace of blood under the feet returned, Gao Ming returned to reality.

He stood in the middle of the scraps of manuscripts on the floor. The walls of the living room turned into normal colors, the bloody murals disappeared, and the villa no longer felt eerie and twisted.

"Teacher Xia, this has gone beyond the scope of art, right? What exactly does he want to do?"

Gao Ming looked at the strange photo: "Is he alive in this situation? Or is he dead?"

Thinking of Xia Yang's strange words just now, Gao Ming was a little confused: "If I destroy this photo, Xia Yang should be completely gone, but this photo that helped Xia Yang become a top player hides very terrifying abilities."

Destroying the photo is equivalent to wasting the rarest photo that can be found in Gao Ming's memory; leaving this photo is equivalent to taking a part of Xia Yang with him.

Everything seemed to correspond to what Xia Yang said before, Gao Ming had no chance to kill him, and he would always watch Gao Ming.

"Death is something that must happen, living is a demand, and death is a gift?"

Now Gao Ming felt very uncomfortable. He found that the villains he encountered were completely different from those in the movies. They were all extremely complex and their mental states were extremely unstable.

"Xia Yang may also have overestimated my ability. He really thought that I had seen all the future, so he wanted to use this method to overturn all endings. But in fact, I only have memory fragments related to my own death."

Holding the posthumous photo, Gao Ming suddenly realized that he didn't know anything about the art master he had worked with for many years. He tried to find something related to Xia Yang in the house.

The first floor is where you live, and the second floor has a dedicated studio and storage room. If you sell any of the works in it, you should be able to earn one month's salary.

He rummaged through the cabinets and found a large number of drugs in the bedroom drawer, many of which he knew.

Most of those drugs are used to treat schizophrenia, and some seem to be used to treat certain types of terminal illnesses.

Entering the storage room, Gao Ming found multiple medical certificates under the randomly piled scrap manuscripts. Xia Yang had been diagnosed with terminal illness by multiple hospitals. He refused to cooperate with treatment and would not live much longer.

"Normally I don't see anything wrong with him at all."

Looking up at the works on the wall, Gao Ming found something hidden behind the paintings, so he took down the paintings.

A secret door appeared in front of him. The door panel was covered with photos of abandoned children, as well as photos of the treatment of various deformed children.

Gao Ming tried to push the secret door, and he saw a real Xia Yang.

The walls of the darkroom were also densely covered with photos, and there were many certificates kept on the floor. Xia Yang had anonymously sponsored 121 children, donated money to abandoned children every month, and also helped a large number of deformed children with corrective surgeries and took them away. Live a normal life.

But at the same time, he carried out hunting activities unscrupulously. There were not only the innocent smiling faces of children on the wall, but also various murder photos.

Xia Yang doesn't care about any moral constraints. People really seem to be like the flowers he plants in the garden. He is willing to patiently care for the flowers to grow, and he will also prune the branches decisively and pick the flowers cruelly to appreciate them.

"What kind of mental state does he live in every day?"