There was a rush of sickness in my heart.
Meng Qisheng was able to live as an old monster purely by relying on the skin and flesh of the monster-shaped Adi. And the sarcoma on Adi's body is endless for some reason. Therefore, Meng Qisheng does not need to carry food, as long as Adi and him stay at home, then he can sit back and relax.
My face was gloomy, and I stared at the dark yellow meat strips in the cloth bag in Ning Hanqing's hand. Maybe it was for psychological reasons. I always felt that the meat strips revealed weirdness.
Meng Qisheng smiled sly. I looked up at Adi. There were not too many signs of humans on her body. Her eyes were blocked by layers of messy meat. She couldn't see clearly, and she didn't know that she was facing with a knife cut from her body. Watching the man named Meng Qisheng swallowed it into his throat, waiting for her meat to slide down the intestines until it was rotten. At this moment, what is Wang Di thinking about
I do not know. I don't know if Wang Di still has a sense of thinking. When facing Meng Qisheng, she is more like a human-raised animal, a bear in a cage that draws bile day after day. But she can pretend to be Fang Jindong and talk to people in an organized manner.
So why doesn't she resist
Seeing Meng Qisheng ripping the meat strips into his belly with one bite, and not even roasting them, I suppressed the nausea surging in my heart, and reluctantly smiled and said, "Let's stop eating."
By the time Meng Qisheng finished eating slowly, the sky had completely dimmed, the mist surging in the mountains and forests engulfed waves of chill, and his coat had been moistened by the mist.
The group found a slightly cleaner place. Meng Qisheng raised the fire, and Fang Jindong volunteered to watch the night. I wanted to watch the middle of the night. Meng Qisheng laughed and said, "You don't need to eat or drink or sleep when you are hungry. It was just right that he stayed all night."
I looked at Fang Jindong, and when he nodded, I found some broad leaves and spread them on the ground as a blanket, and lay in a pile by the fire.
…
A run-down room.
I stood up in a daze, looked around for a while, strange, where is this? The room is not big, it is dusty, there is no door or window. Lifting my head, there is no roof, I can only see the hazy fog silting on the top of my head.
Opened his mouth, his throat seemed to be entangled with a bunch of run-down cotton, hissing hard.
what happened? This is where
Suddenly, a dull bell rang, not loud, but it still frightened me. The ringtone in this small space originated on a table placed against the corner of the wall.
I walked over and found that my calf was so limp that it was very difficult to get close to the dilapidated wooden table.
On the table is a dusty box from which the dull telephone ringing is heard. I wiped the dust on it, my hands were very uncontrollable, and it was very difficult to wipe the dust off the box.
The contents inside kept ringing, lingering in the ears back and forth, and finally back and forth in the head.
Headache is splitting.
I even suspect that there is actually a dead silence in this house. The real sound comes from my mind, from my fantasy.
Suppress the discomfort in my heart and force my attention back to the box. The grayish-yellow shell is very similar to the color of the army, but it shows the traces of the vicissitudes of life. About the size of a radio, a white button clasped the opening of the box.
I held back the abnormality of my body and recognized the object in front of me.
This is a military phone box from the 1960s and 1970s. The old man at home likes to store old things. I saw similar boxes in that courtyard in Beijing. The old man didn’t let me open it. He told me what’s so good about a telephone. of. Be a treasure for fear that I might break it.
I shook my head and squeezed the distracting thoughts from my head. The dull but ear-piercing bell is still lingering, and the strands of sound seem to penetrate my brain.
I lifted the phone box and found that a small hole was opened at the bottom of the box, a line extending from it to the ground, and finally submerged into the ground.
If this is a telephone line, then what is the other end? Isn’t that the person who called
I pressed the off-white button, opened the lid, and the sharp sound of metal rubbing sounded, and finally other sounds besides the bell appeared in my mind. Although it was sharp and harsh, it relieved my discomfort to a great extent. Increased the strength of his hand, and finally opened the lid, the clear bell dashed into the auricle unscrupulously, back and forth in my mind.
Headache is splitting.
I forcibly slapped myself and tried to open my eyes and look into the box.
A hand crank, a circuit board with several wires entangled, the most conspicuous is a handset placed horizontally in the center of the phone box. With the ringtone, it vibrates slightly.
A business suddenly appeared in my ear, shouting in a low voice, quickly pick up the handle, pick it up, the damn sound will stop, quickly pick it up.
The bell is still lingering in the space.
But I hesitated.
Why hesitate? Pick it up quickly! Pick it up! The voice in his head yelled. I find it strange, why would I hesitate? The best thing I should do is pick up that damn phone.
The ringing tone persists, and my head hurts more and more. I want to pick up the handle, and the voice in my mind is also clamoring wildly, pick it up! pick up!
But my body is still hesitating, even though it has been holding the decaying wooden table with a headache because of a headache, it is still hesitating.
Why should you hesitate! The voice in his head yelled.
wrong.
I suddenly felt something wrong.
The voice in my mind is familiar, not unfamiliar at all, it seems to be... my own voice!
But this sound is not very similar to mine, it's like... it came out of a tape recorder.
But I can be sure that this is my voice.
There are two ways of transmission of sound, one is through the air, the sound on this transmission path will be heard by others, and the other is through the skull, the sound on this transmission path can only be heard by oneself. There is a difference between these two sounds. The sound we hear in the tape recorder is actually the real voice heard by others.
Why is there a voice in my mind? And this sound was not made by my own body, because he did not spread to my ears through the skull.
My body shrank in pain. There was chaos in my mind, my voice was clamoring, I picked up the handle and took the call! Take that call!
correct.
This... is not my body! I looked at my hand, this is not my hand, the nails are different from mine!
This is not my body.
what is the problem. (End of this chapter)