Merry little roll

"Did you know that there is something called ghosts in this world. Ghosts are different from people, demons, immortals, and demons. They are transformed from resentful spirits who have nowhere to go. They don't have emotions like humans. Free and easy like a demon, not as persistent as a demon, and not as pure as a fairy—their heart and lungs are black, their chest is full of pus, and their eyes are full of blood. Keep rolling! They will gouge out your eyeballs, they will suck your breath away, and they will teach you not to think about food and drink all day long, and to be decadent until you are dying. As long as people are found by ghosts, they will become ghosts, with long hair on their bodies. It is full of worms, and pus is coming out of the eyeballs!"

At the tenth word '正', the group of children came back.

They drove him to the airtight room, and his immature body hit the ground like a cement bag, making a "bang" sound.When the last ray of light was hidden outside the door, the group of children closed the door, leaving a cruel smile that wiped out their nature, and the dust just floated into the air, spinning unknown grievances.

He has even slept in the stinky ditch, so what is he afraid of?

But his body was shaking.People who are alone can't pretend not to care.

The cold fear climbed up from the ground, spread to his neck, slowly wrapped around the fragile heart, and took root inside.

first day.

There seemed to be something in the darkness, but he didn't want to believe it. He covered his ears as if to cover his ears, his intestines were as painful as burning.

the next day.

There was obviously no one in the house, but there was a knock on the door, "Dong Dong", "Dong Dong".

The sound of "dong dong" was very loud at first, almost vibrating in the whole room, coming from all directions, and drawing a fierce clamor on the wooden board.

Cold sweat kept pouring out of his back, but fear pinned him in place, made his mouth dry, made his body churn with muddy stomach water, made his shoulder blades burn and hurt, but it just made him unable to move, I can only lie on the cold ground like a humble mouse, lingering on meagerly, trembling ridiculously.

Day three.

The sound of "dong dong" gradually weakened, replaced by the sound of fingernails scratching the wooden board.

He curled up into a ball, the stench in the room dazzled him.His legs seemed to be unconscious, but he was finally able to stand up. He dragged his staggered body to look around, anxiously looking for the source of the smell and sound in the darkness.

Fingernails scrape and pull the board, ferocious and eager.

But he couldn't find it.

His body trembled in the dizziness all around, but he couldn't find it.

The rat ants hiding in the dark smiled at his jokes, climbed up on his body, gnawed at his index finger, bit his bones, and swallowed his gradually numb and frozen body.

Where exactly, where exactly did it come from... Make that repetitive and monotonous sound of scratching nails, as if it could cut through a wooden board, and penetrate the entire dark silence with mottled bloodstains.

He had a nightmare, in which the fingernails cut open his skin, trembling and trembling in it, dragging away his burned and hot intestines.

Fourth day.

There was no more "dong dong" sound, and the sound of the thin fingernail scratching was no longer loud, and the surrounding was deadly silence.

Perhaps it is more terrifying than death. He knows that the rebirth after death seems to have no such and such troubles, no ups and downs of hunger and cold, and no deep and faint fear that corrodes flesh and soul.

The stench, a rancid stench coming from nowhere slowly spread to every corner of the house, messing up the empty dark place.

He had smelled the stench before.

Next to the stinking ditch where he used to live, in the green, dirty and smelly water, the corpses of weasels, civet cats, or decapitated cats often floated. Most of them died not long ago, and the black blood had not yet scabbed completely. , gurgling into the smelly water, the stagnant whites of the eyes were beaten by the water to shake out the flesh-colored silk threads inside, these things are often full of tumbling white worms.The stench of rotting flesh swayed through the stinking water, creeping into his firewood nest, becoming a headache-inducing nightmare.

An old man once came by the stinking ditch, and the old man rushed to snatch his place, spread a straw mat on the sticky mud floor, and lay on it, skinny and bony like a meat rack growing on the straw mat .Then one day, on a bright sunny day, the old man was starved to death on the straw mat, yellow saliva dripped slowly from the corner of his mouth, and after a few hiccups of "gada", his body convulsed violently, and the straw mat was immediately wiped out. Viscous filth stained through.The old man never woke up again.

He carefully wrapped the old man into the straw mat, even though he was holding his breath, the dull and foul smell still pressed him and entangled his fragile throat.

The stench in the house is getting stronger and stronger.He bent down and sniffed his clothes vigorously.

Could it be his own smell?

Could it be that I am like those weasels, like the old man in the stinking ditch, who will soon be covered with white worms?

"boom!"

Like an explosion, there was a violent impact from the ground of the house.

underground?

Why underground?

Does this house have an underground space?

He stood up trembling.

At this moment, the door of the house made a long-lost, rusty sound, and he twitched like a startled bird, slowly turning his head.

He raised his hand, and the light, dazzling light pierced his eyes.

The demons outside the door showed treacherous smiles from the cracks in the door.

dizziness--

"Shao Xiao!"

"Shao Xiao, wake up!"

Shao Xiao curled up in the faint light, and vaguely heard someone calling him. Looking to the left, it was squinted and rolling eyes outside the crack of the door, and looking up, it was, looking up—why, it was the endless deep sea?

Shao Xiao, his name is Shao Xiao?

When did he have a name, and who gave him that name?

In the deep sea swaying overhead, there is a faint white light shining in it.Not aquatic plants, not swimming fish, not shells, not fluttering silk flocs.

"Xiaoyao, give me your hand."

He covers his eyes.

It is obviously a deep sea, why is there a dense sunlight growing in it?The kind of sunshine that warms the body and makes people unable to open their eyes; the kind of soft sunshine that is especially gentle in winter and will hold up flowers and plants; the kind of light orchid fragrance that illuminates dark corners; Swaying in the deep sea, extending the warmth - Yang.

"Happy, hand."

The door was broken with a "squeak" sound, and the demons approached him panting heavily.

He trembled, and stretched out his hand cautiously upwards.

Happy?

What is Happy?

A powerful force engulfed his whole body, dragging him upwards, and the next moment - he fell into the cold sea water.

The invisible, the ups and downs of the deep sea.

The cold seawater instantly wrapped around his body, rushing into his mouth and nose, inflating his eyes, and rushing left and right in his body, like a thin blade, he was constantly torn apart by the two forces in the hurricane .

His eyes ached, and his head seemed to be squeezed by invisible hands.

The robe swells and swims infinitely in the deep sea, and the bubbles surge upward one after another, sinking and floating in the dizziness of constant rotation.

ups and downs, ups and downs—

dizziness--

He couldn't help coughing violently, but found that his throat was extremely sweet, and red blood streaked out from his body, slowly spreading around.The pain was suppressed in the dull silence, and everything in the mind turned into psychedelic sea water, flowing to the depths of the bone marrow.

so tired.

I really want to just fall into endless silence——

"Xiaoyao, why are you always like this?"

Ethereal tenderness, sighing helplessness, approaching warmth, distant and mottled light.

He opened his eyes.

Someone kept approaching, the warmth was dug into his stiff and cold palm, and the icy white robe opened in the water, wrapping around his black body.White and black are blended, and the ink is dense on the pure white brocade paper, dripping with conspicuous coolness.

Who is this?

The black body began to struggle, to break free from the endless dizziness, and wanted to reach out and grab the warmth that was close at hand.

Warm sun——

That's the warm sun—

But the next moment, Nuan Yang caught him.Like grabbing a treasure, the warmth suddenly wrapped around his broken body, pulling him into a soft embrace, holding him tightly, not letting him move a bit.

The past was in a hurry, but he couldn't recall anything.

The sea water calmed down, and his heartbeat also gradually calmed down. The place where his eyes fell was cold and gentle pure white.He slowly stretched out his hand and clasped his palm tightly.

The man held out his hand—he closed his eyes.

"who are you?"

"Shao Xiao, I'm Ping Sheng."

"Ping Sheng?"

Pingsheng?

"Ping who is happy in his life, and Sheng who is bursting with flute."

Why are you happy?

"You are Xiaoyao."

Their conversations floated up and down like weeds in the water, entangled with each other in the endless sea water, and a long-lost longing surged in his chest—the longing for light, the longing for beyond the deep sea, the longing for pure white, for— —The thirst for life.

The man clasped his own neck, and slowly pulled himself in his direction, until the black color and the bright color completely overlapped, until the black color and the jade color overlapped up and down, until Udai and paleness merged into one.

The water flow stopped suddenly, but the air bubbles lingered between their lips, and the warm air criss-crossed along their tongues.

He seemed to be in a dream, but the softness in his heart was constantly surging upwards. This kind of softness and warmth made his eye cavity feel hot, and a thousand knots were tied in the bottom of his heart, entangled for thousands of years, ten thousand years, and still entangled with the red cotton rope.

The lips are warm and cool, the heart is surging, the red rope is pulled, and the fingers are interlocked.

Shao Xiao opened his eyes and broke into the endless light blue coldness.

The surroundings are no longer the endless deep sea, but the silent hillside, the moonlight is skewed, and the crows on the treetops are still noisy.

Shao Xiao froze in place.

Opposite him, the white-haired boy slightly narrowed his light-colored eyes, stretched out his hand and slowly wiped his vermilion lips, but stared at him intently.

The black color is reflected in the pale jade color.

A familiar, sly smile appeared on the corner of his mouth.