Super thriller live broadcast

The hairs on my hair stood up and goosebumps appeared on my neck. I forced myself to stay calm and did not turn around. Instead, I moved the phone camera to record the full image of the person behind me on the screen.

He was wearing pajamas, had loose skin, and was about forty to fifty years old.

The screen moved up and finally settled on the man's face. His face was blue and purple, and the outline of his face looked abnormally swollen due to suffocation.

"Die by hanging? Is it suicide?" Hanging is not an uncommon method of death. For suicides, it is a cheap way of death that can be completed without much cost.

Carefully observe the man's facial expression. In addition to pain, the muscles on his entire face are spasming, which contains deep fear.

"No, if it were simply defined as suicide, he shouldn't have shown such a horrified expression before he died. He was forced to hang himself. Of course, it's also possible that he saw something so terrifying when he was dying that he The terror in the brain exceeds the pain of death itself."

My eyes were fixed on the screen, and the male corpse was shaking regularly behind me. This was an extremely weird scene.

I could clearly feel the touches on my neck one after another. Just when I was hesitating whether to turn around or not, the male corpse with bulging eyes on the screen that almost made his eyes pop out of his sockets suddenly glanced at me.

Condescendingly, rolling his eyes with a hint of resentment and pain, his eyes passed over my body and landed on the third-to-last shelf of the bookshelf.

I was startled by the strange reaction of the hanged man's body and almost dropped my phone.

I stood up from my seat, took a deep breath and turned around suddenly, but everything behind me was still normal and there was nothing.

"The mobile phone in the underworld can see dirty things that ordinary people can't see. The male corpse hanging behind me should be the soul of an unjust dead man."

There is a hanged man hanging in the middle of the study, and he looks exactly like the gentle father in the photo.

"My father died in his room. Are there similar ghosts in other rooms?" I lit another cigarette. To be honest, the one just now really scared me. At this time, I still had some hands to light the cigarette. Trembling.

"The eyes of the corpse just moved. He seemed to be reminding me to pay attention to a certain place." I thought of the place where the hanged ghost's gaze lingered. I stood next to the bookshelf. There was a clock on the third floor from the bottom, with only two clocks on it. The time shown by the first hand is ten minutes past one.

"Clock?" I shook my head and took out all the books on the third floor and put them on the ground.

"What hint does he want to give me?" He opened a book casually, and the words "I'm sorry" were written all over it in red pen. The densely packed text looked quite penetrating.

After flipping through a few books, I quickly made new discoveries.

In an article titled "Painful Faith", I found a few words from the hanged man's father about his own life.

"Living with wishes without hope is the greatest sorrow in life."

"About love, I may be able to give a deeper definition. True love does not need to worry about morality and humanity."

At first glance, this seems to be a very high-quality academic paper, but when I read it later, it almost made me vomit.

Later, in the form of observation and recording, the story that had to be told between this man and the seven girls was told. What was even more exciting was that later on, he and the seven girls were in full swing, and his wife was not idle either and often invited him. Colleagues are guests at home.

These things cannot be discussed in detail. After his wife gave birth to their third child, the two ended this absurd marriage.

Putting this random note in my pocket, I found no other valuable clues, so I left the study and entered a nearby bedroom.

This bedroom was only half the size of the study. Apart from a desk filled with textbooks and an alarm clock, there was only a combined bed divided into bunk beds.

I looked at the football and two pairs of worn-out sneakers behind the wall: "The two boys should live in this bedroom. They are five or six years apart in age, and they live together. It is inevitable that there will be friction. Could it be that the family portrait Were the injuries on the skinny boy’s body caused by his brother?”

I looked through the textbooks and homework books on the desk. They were clean and looked like new. When I opened the drawer, there were also small things that boys often play with.

"There doesn't seem to be anything special about this room except that it's dirty." I didn't want to miss any clues. After checking the desk, I looked at the bed. The modular bed was wide at the bottom and narrow at the top. There was a mosquito net. I stood outside and looked in, hazy. I can't see anything clearly.

The person sleeping on the lower bunk must be my brother, and there is a thick reference book on the bedside.

"A person who doesn't like studying would buy reference materials?" I felt a little abnormal. I took the reference book into my hands, and when I opened it, there was a thin booklet inside.

"What is this?" The cover of the booklet was so bright that I felt blushing after reading it: "Adult magazine? Like father, like son."

Stuffing the pamphlet into your pocket, this crucial piece of evidence must be preserved.

The quilts and mattresses on the lower bunk were in a mess, piled together haphazardly, but the opposite was true on the upper bunk. The sheets had no wrinkles at all, and the quilts were neatly folded, like freshly made tofu cubes.

"The two brothers have completely opposite personalities. The younger brother is probably an introverted, serious person with a little low self-esteem." I climbed to the upper bunk, opened the pillows and sheets, and found a brown diary.

"It's another classic part of this kind of puzzle horror game." Pulling back the mosquito net, I sat on the bed and started reading about the miserable life of a child in a deformed family.

"In my memory, I have only seen my mother twice. Once, my father almost beat me to death after he was drunk. My brother called her and asked her to take me away, an illegitimate bastard. Another time, I secretly came from I ran away from home and walked four hours in thin clothes in winter to a neighboring city to find her. It was very cold that night, and I squatted at the door of her and another man's apartment all night. She didn't let me in. Open a crack in the door and tell me, 'Get out of here'."

"I don't know the meaning of my life. Maybe my existence is to help this woman atone for her sins. She betrayed her father, but I relied on my father to support her like a parasite."

"My brother is tall, handsome, and good at football. Many girls like him, including the most important one."

"Brother likes to sneak out of the room and enter her house after her father is asleep."

"I don't know what they were doing behind my father's back, but it just felt like something bad."

"Once after my brother left the room late at night, I followed him out secretly and lay on her door to eavesdrop. Only then did I learn the secret between my brother and her."

"I can't forget that night. Maybe some of my enlightenment started from that night. I stayed at her door for half an hour until two o'clock in the morning, when the door suddenly opened."

"Since then, their attitude towards me has become even worse. If anything goes wrong, they will beat me up, force me to eat spoiled food, force me to drink dirty water, and treat me like a smelly bag of garbage. Just looking at me I feel sick."

"I live with them, but in a different world. In order to survive, I have to endure."

"The worse thing started after I graduated from junior high school. That year my father brought home a young woman."

"Since the arrival of this woman, my living space has been further squeezed. I dare not let them see me. It seems that everyone is holding a fire in their hearts. What's even scarier is that they think it's all because of me."

"I'm very scared. I'm afraid they will kill me. They often talk behind my back and look at me without any warmth in their eyes. I don't want to die."

"Later, my father did not let me study somewhere close to home, but asked me to go to another place to study through connections."

"This place is between Xinhu and Jiangcheng. It is not easy to get in. I was even moved at a certain moment, thinking that I had misunderstood my father all these years. But the reality slapped me hard. They just didn't want to See me, send me to a remote place, let me stay at that woman’s place, and let me be tortured and bullied by her and more people.”

There is a lot of information in the diary, so I only watched part of it.

"The Tongsang Talisman was brought from Xinhu. It seems that the owner of this dream should be someone from Xinhu." I'm not sure who it is yet, but I already have a vague candidate in mind.

I habitually wanted to touch a cigarette, but my fingers touched something strange while waving. It was a touch that only human skin can have.

"Could it be that the hanged man's father is here?" I put the diary in my arms and took out a suppressing charm.

"What's the matter! Your Taoist master is here!" I shouted to encourage myself, and then I looked up. The mosquito net was dented inward against the principles of mechanics, as if something was pressing on it, and it was approaching me.

Twenty centimeters, fifteen centimeters, ten centimeters, too close, so close that I couldn’t see it even if I wanted to.

It was a man's face, deathly gray, as if he had overindulged himself, and all the blood vessels that should have been hidden under the skin appeared on the surface of his face, which looked really scary.

"It's not the hanged ghost dad, this...should be my brother." Not anyone can do it to look at such a terrifying face at close range. Fortunately, I have a strong grasp of these things after being trained in the underworld show. Immunity: "Your father was hanged. It looks like you died of poisoning."

The mosquito net stopped approaching me when it was ten centimeters away. Ghostface seemed to be restricted by some rules and could not attack me.

It rolled up a pair of dead fish eyes, glanced at the alarm clock on the desk, and then slowly disappeared.

"Why should you care about the alarm clock?" I jumped out of bed and picked up the alarm clock on the table. The time displayed on it was one thirty.

"When I was in the study, the clock showed ten past one. What does this time mean?"

As soon as I fell asleep, I met two ghosts. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and walked out the door and entered the last bedroom.

"What secrets can there be in a girl's boudoir?"