Super thriller live broadcast

When interacting with strangers, I always look into their eyes immediately.

I have been in contact with all kinds of people during more than a dozen live broadcasts. Some of their eyes are clear, like lakes on the plateau; some have dark eyes, obviously hollowed out by wine and sex; some have malice hidden in their eyes, like hungry snakes; His gaze is as deep as an endless sea.

Many times, you can roughly judge the personality of the other person through his eyes. But this time, I was a little unsure.

The eyes of the man behind the door were different from anything I had ever encountered before. His eyes were densely covered with bloodshot eyes bulging outward, and he seemed to be extremely sleep-deprived. But paradoxically, there was no trace of it in his eyes. Fatigue, but there was also an abnormal excitement hidden deep in his pupils.

He was like a believer performing a sacrifice, waiting for the devil to come.

"Hello, does this woman live here?" I held the woman's chin and moved towards the iron door.

The man behind the door didn't reply. His eyes were beating violently in his sockets. As the woman's face kept getting closer, his pupils gradually dilated, and the blood vessels in his eyes seemed to burst.

I noticed something strange about the man, so I blocked the drunk woman in front of me, stepped to one side, adjusted the angle, and looked into the back room through the crack in the door with my discerning eye.

Bags of garbage were piled up in the smelly residence, all packed in black plastic bags. Some had holes underneath, leaking out some dark yellow liquid.

The room is not big, and the walls are covered with all kinds of graffiti, mostly themed on living people, limbs, and blood. They are all fringe art works that challenge the bottom line of human nature.

"Is this man a painter?" The cement floor in the house was messy with paint, and the furniture was piled together randomly. Tables, beds, and cabinets were all squeezed into the corners, leaving a large open space in the middle with only a lone easel.

"Sure enough, the people living here are more or less mentally ill and different from normal people." I looked away, but I was thinking in my mind, could this person be the show host?

Thinking back to the night after I left Jianghu Cancer Research Hospital, when I met the Jinghai City show anchor, he was completely covered in black robes and his voice was hoarse, maybe falsetto. Judging by his body shape, he should be a man.

Thinking of this, I couldn't help but look at the man behind the door a few more times, trying to compare their heights. Unfortunately, he didn't give me this chance and kept hiding behind the door, only showing half of his face.

"She was drunk. You are neighbors, so you should know each other..."

The only sound in the corridor was my voice. The man behind the door didn't know whether he was looking at me or the drunk woman. After a few seconds, he shook his head towards the door next to him.

"You mean she lives in this room?" There are three residents on each floor of the red building, and the drunk woman happens to live in the middle.

"Thank you." Before I could finish my words, the man closed the door directly. It is worth noting that he used his shoulder to push the door to close it.

"Is this man holding something? Can't he free his hand?" A picture emerged in my mind. Through an iron door, the murderer was holding a bloody knife and the head of the deceased, and then he was talking to me.

"It's not impossible. There is a stench in this person's house, and all kinds of smells are mixed together. I'm not sure if it's corpse odor." I looked at the gap in the iron door, which was covered with various colors of paint. The other person seemed to be Someone who did this intentionally: "How cautious."

Not finding anything, I turned around and walked towards the iron door in the middle, inserted the key, and the door lock opened with a sound: "I finally sent you home."

When the iron door was opened, the rust fell off and the door shaft made a creaking sound.

In the dark and closed corridor, this sound was particularly scary. I looked back and saw that it was pitch black upstairs and downstairs, as if there was some kind of monster hiding.

Pushing open the big red wooden door inside, I dragged the drunk woman into the house. Before I could find the light switch in the living room, a black shadow suddenly floated in the room.

I was shocked, and I almost yelled out the ghost magic formula. Fortunately, the many live broadcasts had tempered my nerves like steel, and I managed to endure it.

Looking carefully, the window in the living room was not closed tightly, and the swaying things were just curtains.

"It's scary, scary to death." I took a breath and turned around to close the iron door outside. When I turned my head, I found a faint light coming from the gap in the iron door on the other side.

It flickers on and off, not like a light, but more like the fire produced by burning things!

I have discerning eyes and am extremely sensitive to changes in light. There was absolutely no light in the corridor before I opened the door. This faint firelight only appeared after I opened the door.

"There is light coming from the crack in the door. Is someone peeking?" In order to prevent unnecessary misunderstandings, I did not do anything extraordinary. I pretended not to notice, directly closed the iron door outside, and then opened the big door. The red wooden door closes.

"One is lonely and crazy, and the other is peeping in the dark. It seems that this woman's neighbors are not simple either." I fumbled on the wall for a long time before I found the switch. It was a white porcelain case with the wires hanging outside and tape around it. Very crude.

With a click of his finger, there was a soft snap, and a shallow white light illuminated his eyes.

The lights in the living room have very low wattage and the light is soft, even dim.

"People here seem to have a special liking for darkness." The old woman on the second floor said that they never make too much noise when they go upstairs and rarely activate the voice-activated lights. The painter's house they just met is also dark. Now even It's like this in the house of drunk women.

The lights were deliberately dimmed, as if too much brightness would attract something bad.

I dragged the drunk woman into the living room and looked around.

The cabin is small in size, with one living room, one bathroom and one bedroom. The kitchen and balcony are connected and separated by a baffle in the middle.

"Although the sparrow is small, it has all the internal organs. If you don't mind the outside environment, it's good to live here alone." I put the woman on the sofa and walked to the window with a black umbrella in one hand. Looking out from here, I could just see the A group of abandoned buildings.

"The restaurant owner said that Longchang Community was built decades ago. The concession was forced to build it to give refugees a place to live." I thought about his words in my mind, but I had doubts in my heart. If the dilapidated buildings were Longchang Community , then what is this red building? The two have the same name? Or is there another secret?

I glanced at the sleeping woman on the sofa. As a tenant, she must know the reason.

Although this woman has an abuse complex and may suffer from other mental illnesses, she is not a threat to me. How much trouble can a skinny and weak woman make?

I closed the window and drew the curtains. Under the dim light, a skinny and delicate woman was lying on the sofa. Her high heels were still on the Audi car. Her feet were bare at this time, and her tight and slender calves were together, white as snow. Her skin is like fine silk.

A man and a woman were alone in the same room, but unfortunately I didn't have any extra thoughts.

"She must be woken up. I want to get more clues before the live broadcast officially starts in the early morning." I looked away from the woman. She was beautiful and tastefully dressed. I was curious about why she lived in Such a desolate place: "What is her occupation?"

I found no clues about the woman's identity in the car, and now that I'm at her home, I feel the need to investigate.

The drawer under the opened coffee table contained some daily necessities, including a fruit knife, toilet paper, a few bags of tea, and a small bottle of hangover medicine.

"Ordinary people rarely have this stuff in their homes. It seems like she often has hangovers." I unscrewed the medicine bottle, read the instructions for use, and poured a few pills into the palm of my hand: "It's really troublesome, open your mouth."

The woman was so fast asleep that she couldn't hear my voice. In order to wake her up quickly, I had to grab her chin and force the pills into her mouth.

Her lips rubbed against my palm, moist and soft. If it were someone with a weak will, she might not be able to hold it.

I put the sofa cushion on the back of the woman's head to prevent pills or other foreign objects from getting stuck in the trachea. After that, I picked up the glass on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to get her a glass of tap water and feed her to drink.

"I hope it works." I looked at the clock on the wall. It was now eleven-ten, and there were still fifty minutes before the live broadcast started.

Putting down the umbrella, I walked around the woman's house.

The living room was simply decorated, the floor was tidy, and everything was neatly put away. Just by looking at these, there was no way to associate her with words like abuse.

"The trash can is clean and has a new bag. It should be cleaned every day. The mirror in the bathroom is spotless, cosmetics are placed from low to high, and the toothbrush and toothpaste are all facing the same direction. Does this woman have obsessive-compulsive disorder?" I said Looking at the window in the living room: "I always feel a little strange. If she is really a careful person, why is the window open when I come in? The sky has been cloudy all the time, and I know it will rain, but I don't close the window when I leave the room?" "

Eyes narrowed, I quietly leaned back and pressed my back against the wall: "Is it possible that after the woman left home, a stranger entered her room through the window? After all, her neighbors are also some strange guys, so they can't be used. Let’s speculate based on common sense.”

The house was not big, and there was almost no place to hide people. After checking the kitchen and bathroom, I opened the bedroom door.

"What's the smell?" As soon as the door was opened, a strange smell penetrated into the nose, as if something was rotten.

I covered my mouth and nose and entered the bedroom. I looked around but could not find the source of the strange smell: "It seems to be coming from this wall."

Walking to the wall next to the bed, I twitched my nose: "Is there a dead body hidden in the wall?"

Taking two steps back, I recalled the building structure and found that behind this wall was the painter's house: "The rotten smell came from his house. Is my previous guess true? He was holding murder tools in both hands, so Why can’t you close the door with your hands?”

The palm of his hand was pressed against the wall. This wall was seriously affected by dampness, and a large piece of the wall could be dug out with just a push of his fingers.