自創小說的集合地

When Foggy Creek vanished, he was still alive—if he was a villager, he might be the only one who escaped. "Or," Xu Ziqian finally looked up, his face flickering in the firelight, "he was the one doing the kidnapping." Silence. The sound of the blizzard hitting the windows grew louder, like countless hands pushing from the outside. Chen Mo committed everyone's expressions to memory: Shen Yuehua was avoiding his gaze, Fang Guodong was observing the windows, Old Zhou was twirling an empty wine glass, Lin Jing was taking notes, and Xu Ziqian was watching him. And one person was missing. "Commander Fang," Chen Mo suddenly turned to Fang Guodong, "When you checked the garage earlier, where was Dr. Shen?" All eyes focused on Shen Yuehua. She froze for a moment, her face turning even paler. "I was in the kitchen," she said, her voice tight, "looking for some hot water to make tea. I was alone in the kitchen for about... ten minutes." "Can anyone vouch for that?" "No. But—" She suddenly stood up. "Are you suspecting me? I'm a psychiatrist, I—" "Cases of doctors committing murder aren't uncommon," Lin Jing said calmly, without looking up. "And experts in post-traumatic stress disorder know best how to keep a victim from struggling." Shen Yuehua's lips trembled, but she didn't retort. She slowly sat back down on the sofa, gripping the armrests tightly, her knuckles turning white. Chen Mo shifted his gaze elsewhere. (To be continued)

Professor Lin, the 'Neihu Serial Disappearances' you were involved in remain unsolved; Forensic Doctor Zhou, you were forced into retirement due to evidence disputes; Commander Fang, your assault operation resulted in the death of a hostage; Dr. Shen, the foundation you work for has long funded a certain remote village, but the name of that place has been redacted; Mr. Xu, your experience section is blank, but I've looked into the multinational corporation you worked for – it acquired all the land surrounding the village of 'Wugu' back then." The atmosphere in the room changed abruptly as the last two words were spoken. Mr. Xu Ziqian's fingers stopped tapping, Ms. Shen Yuehua's lips tightened, and Commander Fang Guodong's jaw muscles tensed again. Only Old Zhou sighed and downed his whiskey. "Wugu," Old Zhou said, wiping his mouth. "I knew you'd find out about this. That place vanished overnight six years ago, and everyone in the village disappeared. The official explanation at the time was 'collective relocation,' but there are no records indicating where they moved. The last case file I handled before retiring was the Wugu case." "Because of that knot, right?" Chen Mo said. "There was a red knot tied to the old banyan tree at the entrance of Wugu village, exactly like the killer's method. But the killer had already been caught by then." "So my conclusion at the time was an imitator," Old Zhou said. "Or perhaps something ritualistic. But the case was quickly suppressed from above, and no further investigation was allowed." Lin Jing suddenly spoke, "Zhang Zhenyu has marks on his left wrist from prolonged rope binding. This means he was tied up for a long time by someone. He was still alive when Wugu village disappeared. (To be continued) Two episodes will be released each time!

All I could do was roll my eyes at this. From my observations over the past few years, Dad is a complete idiot when it comes to daily life. Besides his looks, I really don't know what my stunningly beautiful mom saw in him. Would you admit that a dad who can wear his shoes on the wrong feet and go out all day without noticing is the source of your brilliant genes? However, this doesn't detract from Dad's perfect image in Mom's eyes. Of course, Mom also knows that Dad's occasional chuunibyou tendencies and unreliable behavior are kept in check when needed. Actually, apart from these two points, I can't really find any flaws in Dad. Well, not counting his cooking skills; I feel like no one in this world has any. After this dream, perhaps... it can't be called this world anymore. Maybe... it was my original world, just changed.

"Can you tell me why it was me? Don't tell me you really don't know. And what culture do I even have? I don't like reading, I can't draw, and I have no musical talent, so where does this culture come from?" "Well... just listen. I heard that your brain was apparently used as a sacrifice back then. The great being who received the sacrifice found the taste unique, leaving him unforgettable for hundreds of years. That's why he left a deep impression, leading to your reincarnation and mission this time. As for culture, what do you think is the easiest and most widespread culture in the world? Writing? Music? Or painting? None of them. It's food! Because of your experiences, coupled with the great being's favor, it's only natural that you were chosen." "Alright. You should go back now." "Wait! What brain? Are you saying someone ate my brain back then?" "Who said 'someone'? When did I ever say it was a person? Get lost! You might be able to see me again when you awaken your talent." I woke up groggily. So it was a dream, but why did it feel so real, and why could I remember everything so clearly? Dreams are supposed to fade over time, so did someone really enter my dream last night? "Honey, it's time to get up. We need to take you to register at the basic school today, and also awaken your companion beast." "Okay, Mom, I'll get up right away." That's right. Regardless of what happened last night, there are more important things today that can't be delayed. So I started to wash up. I've been doing this myself since I was two years old, which earned me the nickname 'genius' from my mom and praise for being 'inherited' from my dad.

History was buried, culture was severed, and everything that proved the past was erased. Conversely, new theories were instilled into the minds of humanity, excluding the fundamentals of the original world. New ways of life, new modes of interaction, even the terrain, nations, and methods of transportation all changed. Just like you used to say, it was as if someone designed a brand-new virtual game, which then became your current way of survival and environment. "This power is beyond our imagination. Even if Pangu had created the heavens and earth in the beginning, it wouldn't be a fraction of this. This is directly altering the memories of all life, replacing environments, and yet it can also freeze time." "This is even more exaggerated than the Hongmeng we revered. In our observation, time was stagnant, but the moment time returned, everything changed. In our memories, it was truly just a fleeting moment, and we didn't notice anything. We tried to understand the process of the stagnation, but with little success. We could only watch helplessly as everything we had—our culture, history, legends—disappeared without a trace." "Therefore, you were chosen from the Yellow Springs, simply because you represent a culture. You must re-convey culture and ignite the incense of your bloodline. Also, when that power interfered with the world, we did our best to preserve some things, hoping they might be of some help to you. However, you will need to find and unearth them yourself. Perhaps in the future, you too might become one of us. Then, we can truly meet." "Alright, I've said what I needed to say. The mission is complete. Do you have any questions? If there's anything I can tell you, hurry up and ask, so I can go rest."

Chen Mo covered Zhang Zhenyu's body with a tablecloth and left it temporarily in the wine cellar, but he kept the scene photos taken by his phone. Although the image quality was ordinary, it was sufficient for initial documentation. He placed the phone in the center of the coffee table, the screen displaying a close-up of the red knot. "The style of the knot," Chen Mo began, his voice steady but clear, "is identical to that of the 'Serial Knot Killer' active twelve years ago. That killer murdered five victims in three years, using a specific knot to strangle them and leaving a noose as a mark on the body. The culprit was apprehended nine years ago and is currently serving time in Taichung Prison." "So it's an imitation," Shen Yuehua said, her voice still trembling slightly, but her eyes had regained a doctor's calm. "Or, an accomplice from back then." "An imitation is more likely," Lin Jing chimed in, sitting opposite Chen Mo with her hands clasped on her lap. "I've read the investigation report from that case; the killer was a lone wolf, with no signs of an accomplice. Besides—" she paused, "the motive back then was 'purifying sinners,' and each victim had some moral failing. What moral failing did Zhang Zhenyu have? We don't even know him." "We don't know him," Chen Mo said. "But he knew every one of us. Don't you find it strange? Every participant in this seminar is connected to a major case. Professor Lin, the 'Neihu Serial Disappearances' you were involved in remains unsolved; (To be continued)

It would take at least several months of being bound to leave a mark. The owner of this villa was once held captive for a long time. Chen Mo stood up. The air in the wine cellar was cold and damp, but his palms were sweating. He suddenly understood the meaning of the eighth wine glass. That glass of wine was prepared for the "dead person." And the murderer is standing among the seven of them right now. --- Chapter 3: Confrontation in the Blizzard At three in the morning, the fireplace in the living room was relit, but the flames could no longer warm anyone. Seven people sat in a circle, Zhang Zhenyu's seat empty, the armchair pushed aside like a deliberately left gap. Chen Mo stood by the fireplace, allowing himself to see everyone's face at once. The wind outside began to howl, and the sound of snowflakes hitting the glass was like something scratching. "No phone signal," Fang Guodong said, returning from the door, his face ashen. "The landline is cut, a clean cut, done with tools. The radio equipment is also gone. Several key parts have been removed from the engine of the shuttle bus in the garage; it can't be repaired without professional tools." "Simply put," Xu Ziqian said softly, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the laptop keyboard, "we're trapped." "More than trapped," Old Zhou leaned back on the sofa, holding a glass of whiskey but not drinking it. "We have a murderer among us. Or," he surveyed the room, "at least one." Chen Mo covered Zhang Zhenyu's body with a tablecloth and temporarily left it in the wine cellar, but he kept the crime scene photos— (To be continued)

Three years ago, in that failed negotiation, the last second before the hostage's throat was slit, it was this expression. Someone walked down the stairs behind him. Chen Mo turned his head and saw Lin Jing standing on the last step. The light from the flashlight shone up at her face from below, making her expression unreadable. "The knot is wet," Lin Jing's voice was unusually calm. "Just tied. The killer is still here." Chen Mo squatted down, his fingers hovering over the knot without touching it. The palace of memory began to work—he closed his eyes, dissecting, rotating, and magnifying every detail of the scene. The direction of the rope's path, the angle of force applied by the knot-tier, the edge of the shoe print left on the ground... he could almost see the trajectory of those hands' movements. Then he opened his eyes. "Done within thirty minutes," he said. "Not a lot of force, but extremely precise technique, long-term training involved. And—" He looked up at Lin Jing. "Zhang Zhenyu was drugged before being tied. He didn't struggle at all from start to finish." Footsteps and exclamations from others came from upstairs. Old Zhou pushed through the crowd and came down. He glanced at the body, his face darkening. "Chen Mo," Old Zhou's voice was very low. "Look at his left wrist." Chen Mo looked over. On the inner side of Zhang Zhenyu's left wrist was an old scar, shaped like a small "S"—it was an indentation left by long-term friction from a rope, one that would take at least several months of binding to form. (To be continued) Two episodes are published each time. If you're interested, you can check out the previous episodes! 👇🏻Here's how to view them: Click on the profile picture → Enter personal page → Game Ecosystem Activities → ✅

And Zhang Zhenyu—he barely ate, just kept pouring wine for others, a smile always on his face. But Chen Mo noticed that whenever he poured, the wine bottle's label always faced himself. That's the habit of someone professionally trained, accustomed to hiding information. At 12:17 AM, a scream shattered the silence. Chen Mo was the first to rush out of the room. The corridor lights were dim, and he judged the direction by the sound, quickly moving to the first-floor lobby. The fire in the fireplace had mostly died down, leaving only glowing embers. Shen Yuehua stood at the bottom of the stairs, her face pale, her fingers trembling as she pointed towards the fireplace. "There... behind the fireplace... there's something..." Chen Mo approached. To the right of the fireplace was a hidden door that had been closed, now half-open, revealing a stone staircase leading down. A smell of rust wafted through the air. Without hesitation, he took out his phone, turned on the flashlight, and descended the stone steps. Below was a wine cellar about ten pings in size, with oak barrels lined up against the wall. In the center of the floor lay a person. It was Zhang Zhenyu. He was lying on his back, his hands tied behind him, a red hemp rope looped around his neck, tied in three knots—the first a square knot, the second a clove hitch, and the third a pattern Chen Mo had seen countless times in case files: a noose knot, the standard technique of the Rope Killer. But what made Chen Mo's blood run cold was the state of Zhang Zhenyu's eyes. They were open, his pupils extremely dilated, but the expression remaining in his eyes wasn't fear, but a kind of serene ecstasy. Chen Mo had seen that expression once before. (To be continued)

All seven of them had arrived. But there were eight wine glasses on the coffee table. He didn't make a fuss, just quietly noted it down. During dinner, Zhang Zhenyu raised his glass and gave a toast, saying things like "academic exchange" and "cross-disciplinary dialogue." The others responded politely, the atmosphere stiff but generally peaceful. Chen Mo sat opposite Lin Jing and noticed she barely touched her food, constantly writing something in her notebook. "What are you writing?" he asked. Lin Jing looked up and closed her notebook. "Habit. Observing and recording." "Observing whom?" "Everyone." She smiled slightly. "Including you, Chen Mo. Since you came in, you've looked at the clock four times, the window three times, the ceiling twice, and the wine glasses once. You're calculating escape routes, aren't you?" Chen Mo didn't deny it. After dinner, everyone returned to their rooms. Chen Mo's room was at the end of the second-floor hallway, his window facing the rock face behind the manor. He checked the door lock, window latch, and under the bed, then sat on the edge of the bed, comparing the names on the list with their words and actions during dinner. Fang Guodong spoke the least, but his jaw muscles tightened whenever someone mentioned the word "safety." Shen Yuehua was overly enthusiastic, constantly asking about everyone's childhood experiences, as if conducting some kind of diagnosis. Xu Ziqian stared at everyone's micro-expressions the entire time, occasionally typing a few keys on his laptop, as if scoring each person. And Zhang Zhenyu— (To be continued)