Restricted Doomsday Syndrome Chapter 1785: Be Zhong BiKe
Vip will be released tomorrow. This chapter is the last public chapter. It will be more than 5,000 a day after it is put on the shelves. It may be updated once, or it may be updated twice. .Thank you for your support.
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I felt the growing chill in the mountains, so I went back to the room and closed the doors and windows. Fu Jiang was lying on the bed without any movement or changing his posture, lying there quietly like a dead body. I watched her face by the bed and stayed for a while, shaking in the car and couldn't resist the sleepy bugs, but at this time I calmed down, but there was no sleepiness at all. In order not to let myself become bored, I decided to write down this experience of myself.
As I once did in the doomsday illusion, not only to record my own adventures, but also to organize my thoughts and experiences. Yes, just like reviewing schoolwork, this is a good habit to maintain excellent grades.
I can't sit still anymore when I think of this, and can't wait to finish this work.
There are no tables here, but there are kerosene lamps, workbooks and ballpoint pens in the cabinet. It seems that no one has used it for a long time. The original owner should be a child. He used this pen to do graffiti on the homework. One side of each piece of paper was used up, and I could only write my own things on the other side.
While lighting the kerosene lamp, I wondered who the original owners of this farmhouse were and where they are now. The kerosene lamp was on, and I placed it on the corner of the bed, because I was worried about disturbing the sleeping Fujiang, so I shielded the dim light with my body. I sat on the bedside, put the workbook on my lap, picked up the ballpoint pen, and sniffed the kerosene smell from the lights. I felt like I was wandering in the long river of time, overlapping with the back of a certain time in the past.
I know this is an illusion, but these objects remaining in the cabinet may have been used by a child not long ago. On this night, with a faint kerosene light, I painted my childish fantasies on the workbook.
Thinking about it this way, a calm and tranquil mood appeared in my heart, as if the darkness and evil that had been surrounding me all the time had been driven away by this light.
I lift the pen, where should I start writing? I want to write all my experiences into a complete story, but it is impossible now. I have similar ideas in the doomsday illusion, but in the end I just write down the summary like a catalog. There is not much time left, so I can only do that.
So I started from waking up in that public toilet and listed what happened to me. Because I am not a person who pays particular attention to time, the date at that time is a bit vague, so the idea of recording according to the time format is disillusioned. But when I started to write this new diary, what happened in the past month and my thoughts at the time were vividly vivid, as if a clear stream of time was flowing in front of me, and I was very surprised by the feelings at the time. Rich and complicated thinking. In fact, there were a lot of speculations that didn't happen afterwards, and some were even quite different. Now when I look back, I feel amused, but at the same time I have more new ideas.
So I wrote down the action record in the first line, the second line uses parentheses to indicate my thoughts at the time, the third line uses square brackets to indicate my current thoughts, and the fourth line uses curly brackets to indicate that I am taking this adventure In the harvest.
Sakiya, Zuojiang, Tomie, Morino, Ranju, Hakjing, Shirai, Whisperer, Goat Union, Security Bureau... A feeling of fulfillment rippling in my mind, those waves never stop, Its pace is so fast, perhaps it is a wonderful thing that ordinary people can't have in a lifetime. I buried my head in it, ruminating about my own pride and frustration, happiness and fear, tiredness and determination.
I counted the people killed by myself. Although I was prepared for it, the number was still horrifying. Especially the innocent people killed by the murderer Gao Chuan, the waiters in the bar, I feel guilty and feel the weight of the death of life. I can't wait for the time to turn back, but that is just a delusion. Today, I can only carry this heavy burden all the way forward.
The happy time turns into a trickle of pen and ink, and the painful time makes my arm sore, but when I hold the pen, there is a force supporting me to record it, listening to the truest self among the lines. The sound made. This voice seems to have caused a wonderful chemical reaction in my body and soul. Vaguely, in the magic pattern from the left hand bowl, there is a black fire of purgatory burning all the things that make up me, those cells, personality, thoughts, In the spirit and soul, particles of impurities were discharged, mixed in the tears, and slid down the face.
So my heart became clear.
When I came back to my senses, my adventures had filled the blanks of the workbook. I stopped writing and stared at my scribbled notes, and the lead in my heart fell deep into an abyss, and I could no longer see it.
"What are you writing?" Fu Jiang's voice came from behind. I turned my head and suddenly realized that there were still tears on my face, so I quickly wiped it with my sleeve.
"Are you crying? Why?" Fujiang asked, clearly interrogative, but she seemed to know the answer, using an affirmative tone.
I thought this question would startle my fragility, but I was surprised, looking at Fu Jiang's face~IndoMTL.com~ and my heart calmed down.
"I don't know." I said, "Maybe I feel sad."
That's also true. Those complex emotions were burned, leaving only a faint sadness.
Fu Jiang didn't ask why he was sad, or for whom, even if he asked, I couldn't answer. She leaned forward and looked at the diary in my hand by the light of the kerosene lamp. I generously handed her the book, these words recorded the truest self, I hope she can see it.
Fu Jiang didn't speak, he gently lifted his hair, and quietly flipped through the paper, his expression flat and focused. The feeling she gave was completely different from before, and it almost made people think that it was not Fu Jiang here, but another person.
Is it another personality? But it's not like Zuojiang.
"...Fujiang?"
She raised her head and stared at me with that flat and focused eyes. For a moment, my soul seemed to be sucked in by those eyes that suddenly became deep, and I saw something terrifying hidden in the depths.
Desolate but cold, like an unsheathed dagger, but extremely hard and cold.
It's not like a person, but something else that has a human form.
"I'm Zhenjiang, Achuan." A tiny smile flashed across her face. When she looked closely, she didn't notice any expression, and the smile did not feel like a spring breeze, and Zuo Jiang There is no similarity between Fujiang and Fujiang, and they are full of inorganic feelings, like...a mask.
Yes, I remembered that it was almost exactly the same as the mask hood that matched her combat uniform.
The calm, indifferent, black and cold flame symbolizes power and evil.
I subconsciously used intelligence identification on her.
Name: Zhenjiang
Age: 23 years old
Occupation: Patients with severe mental illness.
Weapon: A critical hedging weapon
Evaluation: c+