Super Thrilling Live Broadcast Chapter 706: Painter

When dealing with strangers, I always look into the other person's eyes for the first time. I have met all kinds of people in more than a dozen live broadcasts. Some of their eyes are clear, like a lake on a plateau; His eyes are deep, like a boundless sea

.

Many times, the character of the person can be roughly judged through the eyes of the other party. But this time, I was a little uncertain.

The eyes of the man behind the door are different from any one I have met before. Less than a trace of fatigue, there is still an abnormal excitement hidden in the depths of his pupils.

He is like a believer who is holding a sacrifice, waiting for the devil to come.

"Hi, may I ask if this woman lives here?" I held the woman's chin and moved closer to the iron gate.

The man behind the door didn't reply, his eyeballs throbbed violently in their sockets, as the woman's face approached, his pupils gradually dilated, and the blood vessels in his eyes seemed to explode.

I noticed the abnormality of the man, blocked the drunk woman in front of me, stepped to one side, adjusted the angle, and used my judgment eye to look into the inner room through the crack of the door.

Sacks of garbage were piled up in the smelly residence, all packed in black plastic bags, some of which were broken and some dark yellow liquid leaked out.

The room is small, and the walls are covered with all kinds of graffiti, most of which are themed on living people, limbs, and blood, all of which are fringe works of art that challenge the bottom line of human nature.

"Is this man a painter?" The cement floor inside the house was messed up with paint, the furniture was piled up randomly, the tables, beds, and cabinets were all crowded in the corner, and there was a large open space in the middle, with only a solitary easel on display .

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

Recalling the night when I left the Jianghu Cancer Research Hospital, when I met the host of the show in Jinghai City, he was covered in black robes all over his body, his voice was hoarse, maybe it was a false voice, and he should be a man based on his body shape.

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

"She is drunk, you are neighbors, you should know each other..."

There was only my voice in the corridor. The man behind the door 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 drunken woman happens to live in the middle.

"Thank you very much." Before I could finish my sentence, the man closed the door directly. It is worth noting that he closed the door with his shoulder on it.

"Is this man holding something? Can't move his hand?" A picture appeared in my mind, through an iron gate, the murderer was holding the **** knife and the head of the dead, and then with I talk.

"It's not impossible. There's a stench in this person's house, and all kinds of smells are mixed together. I'm not sure if it's the smell of corpses." I looked at the gap in the iron gate, where it was covered with various colors of paint. The other party seems to be doing this on purpose: "It's really cautious."

Without finding anything, I turned around and walked towards the iron door in the middle, inserted the key, and the door lock opened in response: "I finally sent you home."

Pull open the iron door, the rust comes off, and the door shaft makes a creaking sound.

In the dark and closed corridor, the sound was particularly frightening. I looked back and saw that the upstairs and downstairs were pitch black, as if some monster was hidden.

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

Shocked in my heart, I almost shouted out the mantra of ghost art. Fortunately, many live broadcasts have tempered my nerves like steel, so I just endured it.

Looking closely, the windows in the living room are not closed tightly, and the swaying things are just curtains.

"People are scary, scary." I breathed a sigh of relief, and turned around to close the iron door outside, but when I turned my head, I found a faint light shining through the gap in the iron door on the other side.

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

I have discerning eyes, and I am extremely sensitive to changes in light. Before I opened the door, there was absolutely no light in the corridor. This faint fire did not appear until after I opened the door.

"There is light through the crack of the door, could someone be peeking?" In order to prevent unnecessary misunderstanding, I did not do anything out of the ordinary, pretending to be unaware, and directly closed the iron door outside. Then close the big red wooden door.

"One is lonely and crazy, and the other is peeping in the dark. It seems that this woman's neighbors are not simple." I fumbled on the wall for a long time before I found the switch. With duct tape, very crude.

With a little finger, with a soft snap, a shallow white light illuminates the eyes.

The wattage of the lamp in the living room is very low, the light is soft, even dim

"People here seem to have a special liking for the dark." The old woman on the second floor said that they never make too much noise when they go upstairs, and they rarely activate the voice-activated lights. , and now even drunk women's homes are like this.

The lights are deliberately dimmed, as if too bright will attract bad things.

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

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

"Although the sparrow is small, it has all 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. You can see the abandoned buildings. "The owner of the restaurant said that the Longchang Community was built decades ago, and it was forced to be built by the concession to give refugees a place to live." I recalled his words in my mind, but I had doubts in my heart, if the dilapidated building was the Longchang Community , then what is this red building? Both have the same name? Still

Another secret?

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

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 cause?

Close the window, I draw the curtains, under the dim light, a skinny and delicate woman is lying on the sofa, her high heels are still on the Audi car, her feet are bare at this time, her tight and slender legs are in the air At the same time, the snow-white skin is like fine silk and satin.

Lonely man and widow live in the same room, but unfortunately I don't have any extra thoughts.

"I have to wake her up, I want to get more clues before the live broadcast officially starts in the early morning." Looking away from the woman, she looks beautiful and dresses very tastefully, I am curious why she Will live in such a desolate place: "What kind of occupation is she doing?"

I didn't find any clues about the woman's identity in the car. Now that I'm at her house, I feel that I need to check it out.

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

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

The woman was in a deep sleep, and I couldn't hear my voice. In order to wake her up quickly, I had to grab her chin and forcefully stuff the pill 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.

Put the sofa cushion on the back of the woman's head to prevent pills or other foreign objects from getting stuck in the air duct. After I finished, I picked up the glass on the coffee table and went to the kitchen to fetch her a glass of tap water for her to drink.

"I hope it will be useful." I glanced at the clock on the wall. It is now ten past ten, fifty minutes before the live broadcast.

Putting down the umbrella, I turned around the woman's room.

The living room is simply furnished, the floor is tidy, and everything is in good order. Just looking at these, it is impossible to connect 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, the 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 asked. Looking at the window of 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, knowing that it will rain, but leaving the room without closing the window? "

Squinting my eyes, I leaned back quietly, with my back against the wall: "Is it possible that after the woman left home, another stranger entered her room through the window? After all, her neighbors are also strange guys , cannot be speculated by common sense.”

The room is small, and there is almost no place to hide. After checking the kitchen and bathroom, I pushed open the door of the bedroom.

"What's the smell?" As soon as the door was opened, a strange smell entered the nostrils, as if something had rotted.

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

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

Two steps back, I recalled the building structure, and found that behind the wall was the painter's house: "The smell of decay comes from his house, is my previous guess true? Tools, so that’s why you can’t close the door with your hands?” The palm was pressed against the wall, the wall was severely damp, and a large piece of wall could be dug away with a single finger snap.