The Bowl of Seven Emotions

The middle-aged man's eyes were covered with red blood, thick as if to drip blood. He turned his gaze to the half-opened desk drawer, where there was a scalpel.

He stepped forward, pulled open the drawer forcefully, took out the scalpel inside, and thrust the tip of the knife into his face.

The blood kept flowing out of his face, as if he couldn't feel the pain, he dug out the piece of flesh raw.

While digging, he smiled, the laughter was crazy and terrifying. But soon, his laughter stopped.

The meat he dug up fell on the ground, and the black marks on it disappeared. At the same time, the mark appeared on his other cheek.

The burning on the other side of his cheek was like a button, instantly suspending all his movements.

A few seconds later, he yelled and inserted the scalpel into the desk, his face twisted and hideous.

"Master of Seven Love Bowl!" He said word by word, as if chewing on the other's flesh and blood.

At this moment, the phone ringing suddenly rang in the white coat still hanging on his body. He pinched the phone and saw the number flashing on it, his forehead bounced.

"Do you still like my meeting gift?"

On the other end of the receiver, Tang Susu's voice came over.

"what did you do to me?"

"I didn't do anything. I just connected your life to the life of my little guest. I don't think you would mind it, right?"

"If I mind."

Tang Susu's voice became colder, "Then you have to accompany me with a life span of 218 years, and I don't mind the dealer takes all."

The face that was still hideous the moment before, was suddenly full of smiles the next moment, "Don't worry, I will definitely stay away from your little guest in the future."

"Of course I believe in your promise, then, goodbye."

The phone was hung up, the middle-aged man put the phone back in his pocket, then hung the white coat on the hook at the door, picked up the human leather mask thrown on the ground, patted it, and put it back on his face.

He smoothed the wrinkles on the human skin mask, and he became Doctor Wu again.

"Mr. Chen's reward is really not that easy to take." He muttered in a low voice, opened the door of the room, and left with graceful steps.

Walking out of the hospital, an extended Bentley stopped beside him.

The window of the car was lowered, revealing a well-dressed old man, who slightly nodded towards the other party, "The owner of the house is waiting for you."

Dr. Wu's eyes flickered slightly and he got into the car.

The luxurious car was driving fast on the road, and soon came to Chen's house.

Seeing the employer sitting on the surprisingly expensive leather sofa, the chef smiled brightly as usual, "I haven't seen you for many days, your complexion looks really good."

Chen Dongsheng, who was sitting in a black suit with a neat black suit, clearly pressed the other side while sitting, looked at the chef blankly, and said coldly, "You missed it."

The chef's smile on his face remained unchanged, and he spread his hands, "Didn't I get rid of the escaped canary according to your request?"

Chen Dongsheng didn't say a word, his fingertips tapped gently on the sofa, not rushing.

After a long while, I listened to him again, "Her death did not let me achieve my goal."

The chef grinned, "Mr. Chen, I remember I told you before that the probability of success is only 70%. Obviously, you are not among the 70%."

"Is this really the case?" Chen Dongsheng rolled his eyes and looked at the chef.

His eyes were cold, but this didn't make the chef waver at all. "You should believe in my profession. Since the death of that lady has no effect on you, let's change to another safer method. "

"I won't give you a second chance to quibble." After finishing speaking, Chen Dongsheng got up, "Send off the guest."

Steward Chen, who stood in the corner like an invisible man, stepped forward and bowed slightly to the chef, "Guests, please go here."

The chef walked briskly out of the depressed Chen family residence, waiting for the gaze that fell on him to completely disappear before the smile on his face gradually disappeared.

He stopped, raised his slightly trembling hand, wiped the back of his neck, his hands full of sweat.

He took out a handkerchief from his arms and wiped his hands, and threw the snow-white handkerchief to the side of the road. He raised his hand to touch the side of his face and muttered in a low voice: "You have to bow your head under the eaves!"

He walked slowly along the road where there were few vehicles until late at night before he walked back to an abandoned house in the suburbs.

The window sashes and door panels of the house where he lived were long gone, and there were no lights around at night, and people walking in was like walking into the huge **** mouth of an evil beast.

Gah-Gah-

After he walked into the house, a piercing and harsh bird song rang.

In the corner of the room, a **** bird flapped its wings anxiously, a pair of wings spread out for a full two to three meters, and a heavy smell came with its flapping.

If you look closely, you will find that the bird's head has a total of nine lengths. There was also an extra cavity, dripping blood continuously.

The unpleasant smell in the room came from the blood.

The chef walked to the big bird's side, raised his hand to touch its head, but was pecked hard by one of its head, and a blood hole suddenly appeared on the back of his hand.

Smelling the smell of blood, the rest of their heads scrambled around, wanting to get a share.

"Oh, it's really gluttonous and ugly, how can your master like raising animals like you?"

There was a smile in the chef's words, and his voice was soft, as if he was saying something compliment, instead of slowly being vicious.

"Forget it, he gave you to me anyway, and I happen to not like you that much."

As soon as the voice fell, he raised his hand and pinched the head that had just been pecked in his hand. The palm of his hand was lightly broken, and there was a crisp sound. The head fell softly as if it had lost its support. Come down.

Then one after another, until the last head dropped, the bird made no sound.

The chef squatted beside the bird's huge body, patted gently, and said softly, "What's the use of having so many heads? It can't even hold the soul of a child, it's a waste!"

It didn't take long for the fire to flicker in the room from the outside. Bursts of unpleasant burnt smell drifted out of the room.

The chef squatted in front of the stove where the pot was missing, one hand gently flicked the firewood inside with a wooden stick, and the other hand took a burnt black outer skin, but the inside was still dripping with blood. Stop biting with your mouth.

The lower half of his face was stained with blood, and he looked terrible.

When he finished his last bite of meat, the flames in the stove gradually disappeared, and the screen of the phone placed on the ground lit up.

Two conversations are shown above:

——The nine-headed bird you gave me was so incompetent, I had to eat it.

——I reminded you not to act rashly.

The chef glanced at the phone screen and sneered.