The world wants to kill the host

A faint fragrance wafted from the cafeteria, and the smell of eggs, leeks and tamales attracted the girl like a hook.

There were people coming and going in the cafeteria. As soon as Qiao Luo regained consciousness, she was already sitting on an empty seat with a plate. She looked at the fried bean sprouts with cabbage in her bowl, then at the meat powder next door, and sighed. He breathed a sigh of relief, and started to chop the rice in silence.

Drowsy in her head, she rarely encountered this kind of body with its own memory.

She took a bite of the vegetables, which were barely oily, while thinking about what was wrong with this body.

Not to mention...Qiao Luo is really the first time she has encountered a realistic version of ghosts in China.

There are seven strange stories on campus, which is a rumor in almost every college.

The sound of grinding teeth in the cafeteria, the moving stone statues, the piano in the music room, the stairs that never end...

You might think that our school doesn’t have a music room at all, the cafeteria is never open at night, the stone statues in the art room are all Jack Ma, and there are only aunt towels in the toilet.

Honey, you are absolutely terrified.

As a member of ordinary people, you will never realize how terrifying our imagination is, the night is silent, and the fear is silent.

Qiao Luo suddenly felt a gust of cold wind passing behind her neck, as if it was blowing on her. When she turned around, there were only classmates hurriedly passing by.

The sun above her head was dazzling and warm, and her back was covered with sweat, but she felt a creepy feeling of nausea in her heart.

Qiao Luo still has to listen to the high school courses.

The mathematics of this body has never been understood since the moment he bent down to pick up the pen.

Fortunately, he was the top leader in the liberal arts class, so Qiao Luo didn't bother to care about it. He fumbled in the drawer for a while and found a notebook.

The tone of the Bible is unclear: "Open it and there will be surprises."

Qiao Luo's white fingertips moved on it, and a touch of silver-gray lead powder was on the lines of the index finger.

A ghastly sketch, several human heads floating in an iron bucket, soaked white skin is covered with layers of grease, there are floating flesh foam on it, the blue veins in the eyes are full of hatred Looking at it, it seems that you can stare at yourself from inside the painting.

Jolo turned over the second one.It was a piano. She thought about it. In the memory of the original owner, it was a broken piano in the old classroom. It seemed that it could no longer be played, but occasionally naughty students would fiddle with it, but they couldn't play a single note.

But in this painting, if you look closely, there are two different sound pieces pressed down, as if someone is playing.