自創小說的集合地

Candlelight and firelight illuminated his face, but deep within his pupils, a blurry, unfamiliar face seemed to be looking back at him. The first faint light of dawn filtered through the frosted window into the hall. And a second scream rang out at the same moment. --- Chapter 5: The Children of Fog Valley The scream came from the second floor. Chen Mo was the first to rush up the stairs, followed closely by Fang Guodong. Old Zhou stumbled to his feet, the whiskey glass in his hand falling onto the carpet with a muffled thud. At the turn of the stairs, Shen Yuehua sat slumped on the floor, her face pale, pointing at a door at the end of the hallway. Her lips moved, but she couldn't form complete words, only intermittent gasps. Chen Mo stepped over her and pushed the door open. The room was empty. The window was wide open, and the cold wind, carrying snowflakes, gusted in, making the curtains flutter. There was a bed, a desk, and a chair in the room; everything was so neat it didn't look like anyone had lived there. But there was something on the bed. A red rope, tied into a noose knot, lay flat in the center of the pillow. Next to the knot was a photograph. Chen Mo walked over and picked up the photo. It was slightly yellowed, taken over a decade ago, with a village nestled among mountains and forests in the background – Fog Valley Village. In the center of the photo, about ten or so children stood under an old banyan tree, dressed in simple clothes, smiling shyly at the camera. One of the children's faces was circled in red ink. That child was about eight or nine years old, with short hair, (To be continued)

"You can also use your right hand." He gave a wry smile. "Did you find that note? 'The second person will die before dawn'?" Chen Mo's heart skipped a beat. "You knew about the note?" "Because I put it there," Xu Ziqian said. "It doesn't mean I'm the killer. Before Zhang Zhenyu died, he slipped a note into my pocket. He told me to put it in the electrical box if he died." He took a note out of his pocket and handed it to Chen Mo. Chen Mo took it and read the note in the snow light. It read: "Xu Ziqian, you are the only innocent one. Protect yourself. The real killer will kill a second person after my death, but his target is not any of you present. His target is 'the one who is absent'—the eighth attendee who never showed up." At the bottom of the note, in smaller print: "That person is in the mirror. Look closely." Chen Mo flipped the note over. There was nothing on the back. But he suddenly understood. He quickly walked back to the lobby and rushed to the decorative mirror by the fireplace—an oval antique mirror set in a carved wooden frame, hanging directly above the fireplace. He looked at himself in the mirror. The seventh attendee. Chen Mo. Who is the eighth attendee? He leaned closer to the mirror surface. The candlelight and firelight illuminated his face, but deep within his pupils, a very blurry, unfamiliar face seemed to be looking back at him. (To be continued)

And then he noticed a detail he had overlooked before— During dinner, Xu Ziqian's left hand was under the table. But he was holding the knife in his right hand, with the tip pointing towards himself. That's a habit only people who have been traumatized have. The blade pointing towards oneself is because subconsciously, they feel they deserve to be hurt. Xu Ziqian wasn't just a behavioral analyst. He was someone who had been hurt. Chen Mo opened his eyes and stood up. "I'm going to the kitchen," he said to Fang Guodong. "Now?" "Now." He walked into the darkness of the kitchen, the candlelight receding behind him. The kitchen door was ajar, unlit inside, with only the snow light from outside casting a hazy white glow. Chen Mo pushed the door open. Xu Ziqian sat in a chair in the corner, hands on his knees, in the exact same posture as when Chen Mo had left. But he was looking down, as if at something. "Xu Ziqian," Chen Mo said. Xu Ziqian looked up. A tear track glistened on his face in the snow light. "Chen Mo," he said, his voice hoarse. "You just said I was left-handed, right?" "Yes." "Then do you know that while a left-handed person's dominant hand is the left, if they were forced to correct it from a young age, they'd use their right hand for writing?" Xu Ziqian raised his right hand. "I was corrected. I write with my right hand and do other things with my left. So when you checked the knot, that 'counter-clockwise' direction of the line—I can tie it with my left hand or my right. (To be continued)

Every time, he couldn't find a flaw—that woman did call him 'brother,' and her face did bear a vague resemblance to his, but his personal records showed no sister, and his parents had never mentioned one. The only explanation was: he had forgotten a period of his life. And that forgotten fragment might be related to Fog Valley Village. He opened his eyes. The fire in the fireplace had reached its peak, and the orange-red light filled the hall. Fang Guodong sat opposite him, his eyes fixed on the flames, his gaze vacant, lost in thought. "Commander Fang," Chen Mo said softly, "you mentioned earlier that the hostage's expression was unforgettable. I want to ask you something." "Ask." "Do you think that expression looked like 'relief'?" Fang Guodong slowly turned his head to look at him. The firelight danced in his pupils for a long time. Then he said, "How did you know?" Chen Mo didn't answer. He turned his head towards the window. Outside the frost-covered glass, the blizzard was still raging, but a faint grayish-blue had appeared at the edge of the eastern sky. Dawn was approaching. Where would the second person die? He closed his eyes and searched his memory palace for everyone's seating, actions, and conversations during dinner that evening. He rewound, fast-forwarded, and paused the scenes like a projector. Then he discovered a detail he had previously overlooked— (To be continued)

Re-examining every detail. The knot, the expression, the scar on the wrist, the shoe print on the floor, the temperature of the wine cellar, the smell, the angle of the light. Then he walked into the room of the "negotiation three years ago." It was the darkest corner of his memory palace, a place he rarely visited voluntarily. A lock hung on the door, but he knew it was merely symbolic; he could open it anytime. He opened it. The room was empty, save for a chair and a monitor screen. The screen played footage from three years prior: a cramped room, Chen Mo standing by the door, facing a man in a black hood. Behind the man was a young woman, bound and gagged with tape, her eyes filled with tears. Chen Mo remembered everything that happened next. The thug said, "You finally came." Chen Mo said, "I'm here. You can let her go." The thug chuckled and said, "She's not a hostage. She's your sister." Chen Mo froze at that moment. He didn't have a sister. He had never had a sister. But as the thug ripped the tape from the woman's mouth, she spoke, "Brother, don't you remember me?" Chen Mo didn't remember. He had absolutely, completely, no recollection. Then the thug slit her throat. Chen Mo shut off the monitor in his memory palace. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He had reviewed this memory fragment hundreds of times, and each time, he couldn't find a flaw — (To be continued)

"We'll take turns keeping watch," Chen Mo said. "Two people per shift, changing every two hours. First shift, Commander Fang and I. Second shift, Professor Lin and Old Zhou. Third shift, Dr. Shen and—" He paused. "Xu Ziqian." Xu Ziqian's voice came from the kitchen. "I heard. I'm fine with it." "Wait a minute," Shen Yuehua suddenly stood up, her voice rising. "You're going to let me and him be alone—" "Not alone," Chen Mo interrupted her. "You'll be in the main hall, sitting right here, with the fireplace still lit. Besides, the third shift is the last one before dawn, which will be close to five in the morning. The shortest period of darkness." Shen Yuehua bit her lower lip and said no more, but her hands were trembling slightly. Chen Mo saw Lin Jing reach out and gently pat her arm. Shen Yuehua took a deep breath and slowly sat back down. The fire in the fireplace popped another spark. The wind and snow outside showed no signs of stopping, and frost had formed on the windowpanes, completely sealing out the night. Chen Mo sat in the armchair to the left of the fireplace, with Fang Guodong opposite him. The others had returned to their sofas or chairs, wrapping themselves in blankets, trying to sleep in the firelight and candlelight. But Chen Mo knew that no one could truly sleep. He closed his eyes, not to rest, but to organize. The palace of memory unfolded in his mind—a vast, infinitely extending room, with different memory fragments stored in every corner. He walked to the room labeled "Zhang Zhenyu's Body" and re- (To be continued)

Xu Ziqian's voice came from the kitchen, sounding somewhat distant and ethereal, "If I were the killer, resisting now would only make me more suspicious. I'll sit still and wait for you to question me. That's the rational choice." Chen Mo didn't respond. He walked to the staircase and tried the light switch, but it didn't work. He then went to the fuse box, opened the cover, revealing a row of old fuse holders. One fuse was pulled out, and a folded note lay beside it. He picked up the note and unfolded it in the candlelight. Written in print on the note was a single line: "The second person will die before dawn. Guess who." The handwriting was printed, with no personal characteristics. But the edge of the note had a tiny, almost invisible red mark—like a fingertip had touched something and left a trace. Chen Mo turned the note over. The back had three words written in the same print: "Guess right for a prize." He put the note in his pocket without telling anyone. He knew that revealing it now would only cause greater panic, and panic would allow the killer's game to continue. He walked back to the living room. Everyone was looking at him. "The fuse in the fuse box is pulled," he said. "There are no spare fuses. There will be no electricity tonight." Shen Yuehua let out a soft gasp. Fang Guodong's face grew even gloomier. Old Zhou silently poured himself another glass of whiskey—this time he drank it. "We'll take turns keeping watch," Chen Mo said. (To be continued)

He had never told anyone that sentence. Because he wasn't sure if he had heard it correctly. The assailant said, "You're finally here." As if waiting for him. "The candles are here." Lin Jing's voice came from the darkness, interrupting his thoughts. She walked ahead, holding a lit white candle in her hand. The candlelight flickered, casting her face in a soft but blurry glow. Shen Yuehua followed behind, holding a stack of candles and a lighter, her face still pale, but her steps much steadier. "The kitchen has been checked," Lin Jing said, placing the candle in the center of the coffee table. "The doors and windows are locked, no anomalies. But—" she glanced at Chen Mo, "the back door of the kitchen was locked from the outside. It's one of those old-fashioned bolts that can only be latched from the outside." "Meaning," Fang Guodong frowned, "someone came in from the outside." "Or, someone went out from the inside and then latched the door from the outside," Lin Jing said. "To create the illusion that 'no one entered or left.'" Chen Mo took the candle and placed it on the stone platform next to the fireplace. The candlelight overlapped with the firelight, making the living room slightly brighter, but the edges of the darkness had only retreated a few steps, still lurking around. "Where is Xu Ziqian?" he asked. "In the kitchen," Shen Yuehua said. "I had him sit on a chair in the corner. He can see the kitchen door and windows, but he can't reach any knives or tools. He didn't resist." "Of course, he didn't resist," Xu Ziqian (To be continued)

"Little monk, aren't you bored staying in the temple all day?" "No, I have so many things to do every day." "Is it tiring?" "Mm... it's a bit tiring, but Master says it's part of my training." "I'm leaving soon, do you want to come home with me? My family has a lot of money, you'll live a better life than you do now." "No, I want to train here. Weren't you ordered by your father to practice purity? It's not good to be thinking about such improper things." "No, I just accidentally offended someone important, and my father told me to hide here. It's not really anything..." - "Little monk?" "Got punished again?" "I came on my own this time." "I don't think you'll like it here." "But since you don't want to go with me, I had no choice but to come find you." - "Little monk? How did you get out of the temple?" "Master told me to go out and gain experience." "The outside world is so exciting, let me take you to play!" "Wait..." - "Do you know who I am? How dare you speak to me like that!" "Calm down, he didn't mean to offend you." "Hmph, I'll let you off this time. Get lost." "Be polite." "You're not my father, why are you meddling so much!" - "I'm leaving." "Little monk, where are you going?" "Master said I need to gain experience in various places and return to the temple after traveling around to know the results of my training." "You were clearly happy here, why are you leaving?" "That's exactly why I have to leave." "I have a lot of money, don't go." "..." - "Goodbye." "Can you really let go?" "I can't." - To be continued

Turning my head towards the direction of the sound, I saw a pink creature with two strange dolls resembling twin tails on its head. It let out a strange cry, but it calmed the crying and chaotic scene. Although its appearance was bizarre, at first glance, it gave off a very gentle and kind feeling. "Fortunately, the院长 (Dean/Principal) stepped in. Otherwise, we wouldn't know how long we'd be stressing about this. Every year on this day, it's the most painful and headache-inducing time for us." The teachers looked relieved. One of them, while speaking, suddenly realized something and quickly shut his mouth. "All parents, please escort the new students into the auditorium." A woman, about 50 years old, walked out from beside the pink creature, reminding the parents of the direction to proceed. Upon entering the auditorium, I noticed a huge basin in the center front of the hall, filled with purple fruits. They looked somewhat like grapes, but were only half the size. This caused some children to start crying and clamoring for the fruit, but they were all suppressed by their parents. "Parents, I need to remind you all once again that the awakening of companion beasts can be limited in a very small number of cases due to special attributes, and because the child has not yet fully established a certain connection with their companion beast in terms of emotion and control. Therefore, parents in this category need to be aware. Please control your children's companion beasts at home and outside of the academy to avoid bearing related legal responsibilities. National regulations prohibit the use of abilities that affect the human body, as well as talents, for control, harm, or modification in places other than special occasions."