"Something?"
"I felt a strong obsession from that painting..." Host Wang said with a blank expression and closed his eyes.
"Obsession? Do you mean this painting is haunted?" Yi Wan said.
"Not necessarily. The spiritual power of a psychic is the perception of strong emotions. Ghosts have strong resentment and hatred. In fact, strong guilt and love can bring the same effect." Host Wang said nonsense, "My intuition tells me that this should be a portrait."
As he spoke, he glanced at An Xilin cautiously and lifted the curtain covering the portrait. It must be said that host Wang was very good at creating a good atmosphere. The staff in front of the screen became nervous as he moved cautiously.
When the painting under the curtain was completely exposed to everyone, everyone was shocked.
The drawing paper under the curtain... is actually pure black
The frame was made to look old, like a relic from the ancient times. The square drawing paper was dark and deep, like the desperate and empty pupils of a woman. Wang Zhuzhi looked at the frame and shuddered as if he was in a drama.
"… I clearly feel that there should be a portrait here." Host Wang muttered, "Strange…"
He reached out and touched the wrinkles on the drawing paper, as if there was something hidden under the black paper. Yi Wan squatted beside him and watched his fingertips move.
"Strange." The staff in front of the screen muttered, "Why do I feel like there is a faint figure on the black paper?"
Yu Rongshi sat beside him and watched.
The other six haunted houses were all selected by Yu Rongshi himself, except for this house that was temporarily replaced by the investor. Although after the initial divination observations over the past few days, the risk factor of this house is not high. However, Yu Rongshi still wants to ensure that there are no accidents that may cause personal injury in the show.
—Especially because there are many ordinary staff members on the scene who are not the "male lead" or "female lead".
Yu Rongshi had a good memory. With a responsible attitude, he inspected the site three days ago. But he didn't remember whether this painting had appeared there at that time.
"Has this painting been published before?" He confirmed with the staff.
"It wasn't there when we investigated the site a few days ago." The staff member looked a little confused. "Did someone move it here?"
The camera was far away. Yu Rongshi did not see any overly strong shadows on the drawing paper—Yi Wan, who was squatting next to the drawing paper, did not have any special expression on his face.
He was vaguely alert and felt that the situation was delicate. Then he heard Wang, with his eyes closed, saying in horror: "This painting is not without people, but..."
"The person who lives behind is coming out! ... Ah!"
As Wang the host screamed, the camera turned to the direction he was looking at. A woman's figure was vaguely reflected in the bronze mirror hanging on the wardrobe. She was wearing a green cheongsam, covered in blood, and grinning at the men.
The people in the room could see it clearly, but the staff in the monitoring room only saw a blurry ghost shadow in the mirror - but just this blurry ghost shadow was enough to make them scream.
"Fuck, is there really a ghost in this house?"
“Oh my God!”
The ghost shadow in the mirror only flashed for a moment, but Host Wang was so frightened that he almost sat on the ground.
This is probably his best acting moment ever, Wang Zhu thought.
Of course he knew that the female ghost in the mirror was just a projection arranged by Mr. Fu - the people in this world who least believed in ghosts and gods were not ordinary people who loved science, but rather scammers like him who used ghosts and gods to cheat people out of money.
However, considering that there were two fragile little idols around him, in order to make himself appear more sociable, Wang still contributed his best frightened acting skills—he took a few steps back and held onto the wall next to him while trembling.
Being frightened yet restrained shows calmness.
And he has another purpose—he must make the "ghosts and gods" in this house come true and win this variety show as a psychic in the metaphysical camp. Metaphysical characters are popular in the entertainment industry today, and Mr. Fu's move is like sending a pillow when he is sleepy. With this variety show, he will definitely become popular again.
But…
Forget about An Lin whose face turned slightly pale, but why did that pretty boy named Yi Wan not move at all
A few staff members who had recovered from the shock saw Yi Wan standing motionless with his back to the camera and began to whisper to each other.
"I saw Yi Wan perform so well in the variety show about seeking love before, why do I feel like I'm just petrified now?"
"Not being afraid of bugs or the wild doesn't mean not being afraid of ghosts. This may be the difference between science and metaphysics... Yi Wan is just a child after all, don't be so harsh on him."
"But to be honest, I feel a little disappointed... I always thought Yi Wan was very calm and cool." The assistant sitting next to Yu Rongshi asked, "Wait... huh?"
Then she saw Yi Wan looking at the bronze mirror... and starting to adjust his collar
"What are you doing?" Host Wang, who had his back to Yi Wan, was stunned.
"My collar was messed up when I ran over here just now..." Yi Wan answered in a very ethereal tone.
"There was something fishy going on in the bronze mirror just now, didn't you see it?"
Yi Wan: "I saw it, but she's gone. She's not occupying the mirror anymore."
Host Wang: …
So Yi Wan meant that the female ghost had left, giving him room to look in the mirror
Yi Wan didn't tell him that he had noticed this mirror a long time ago.
When the ghost girl appeared, he stood there, facing the mirror. The mirror only showed the ghost girl's shadow, but not his.
In the three seconds after the female ghost disappeared, his shadow was not reflected in the bronze mirror.
There was a woman's scream and running footsteps coming from outside the door. Host Wang unnoticedly "supported" the picture frame behind him and shouted, "Not good! Let's go out and check what's going on."
Everything went according to plan. He dragged Yi Wan out. An Lin paused when he passed by the painting.
When he ran to the corridor and saw the crying female writer from afar, An Xilin stopped.
The female writer sat in the corridor and cried. Several people rushed over and crowded around her, asking her what happened. The writer choked up and couldn't explain the truth for a long time.
At this moment, An Xilin left the crowd.
He placed the camera he was carrying outside the room, and couldn't explain what kind of mood he was in. That mood was like a spider's web, strangling him one by one.
He couldn't breathe.
After entering the room he had left before, An Lin saw the painting. Just now, Wang Zhizhu just casually supported it, but he didn't realize that his hand had peeled off a corner of the drawing paper - under the black drawing paper, there was another layer of drawing paper, and the real content of the painting was hidden under it.
In fact, he already understood it when he saw the pure black painting.
In his previous life, when he still liked Fu Qisheng, he painted his portrait, but he always kept the portrait on the easel under several sheets of white paper, as if hiding an unknown little secret in the snow.
He had thought countless times that when Fu Qisheng asked him what he wanted to paint, he would tell him that he had not yet decided what to paint.
I haven't decided who to draw yet.
But Fu Qisheng never asked. Later, the portrait was found by An Yun, who was visiting Mr. Fu's home. An Yun pretended to be innocent, sat on the sofa with his legs crossed, and asked Mr. Fu's brother who was painted in the painting.
"Brother Lin, you must have put a lot of effort into your painting, right?" An Yun said.
Mr. Fu only glanced at the painting that looked 90% like himself and said calmly, "I don't recognize it."
Now that the black paper has been peeled off, the contents underneath are revealed.
The picture on the drawing paper shows a young man sitting in front of an easel, looking pale and haggard, gloomy and cold, with a look of frustration and repression in the corners of his eyebrows and eyes.
Weakness is not pleasing.
It was him in the previous life.
But the young man in the painting was still smiling. That smile was cautious, but it seemed to have squeezed out the last bit of tenderness from his bones. The moment he stared at the portrait, a strange idea popped up in An Xinlin's mind.
"So he still remembers what I looked like before."
"He owed me a portrait in his previous life, so he returned it to me in this life. This portrait was painted by him himself."
"He wants to pay me back everything he owes me. It turns out that when I was so bad in my last life, he was always watching over me."
That voice didn't seem to belong to him at all. But An Lin almost burst into tears at that moment. A strange feeling made him push open the closet beside him. After seeing the clothes hanging in the closet, An Lin fell silent again.
One by one... No, every piece was so familiar. They were all the clothes he wore in his previous life when he was a shield boyfriend and lived in Mr. Fu's apartment. When he was diagnosed with cancer in his previous life and left the apartment in despair, he only took a coat and a sweater with him, and he didn't even tell Yi Wan. And now all the clothes he had left behind were neatly placed here.
An Lin remembered a blue plaid sweater jacket. In today's world, this G-brand jacket is far from being released. He touched it carefully, and his hands were soft.
How did Fu Qisheng manage to restore the clothes to the same state as when he first arrived at the apartment
He finally found the grey cashmere coat on the hanger. He had worn this coat before leaving and died unexpectedly on the cold seabed. The answer to the mystery he was looking for was hidden in the pocket of the cashmere coat that was once stained with blood.
That's a card.
"I can't imagine that after you die, I will keep your memory, hug and touch every piece of your clothing, imagine that you are still in my arms... and spend the rest of my life."
An Xilin couldn't bear it any longer at that moment. He covered his eyes with a card to prevent tears from falling.
At that moment, he vaguely recalled himself falling from the shore into the sea. He was submerged by the sea, and the salty water rushed into his mouth and nose. He carried the child to the shore, but he was swept away by the waves and sank to the bottom of the sea. In that desperate moment with no support, what was he thinking
He was thinking...
He seemed to be thinking...
An Xilin began to feel dazed from that moment on. He was thinking, if there is a next life...
He wants to do, no, he wants to see...
Some mysterious force corrected his words. Right here, in the old house that belonged to Mr. Fu, in the room filled with their "memories." Qing's voice was screaming heartbreakingly in An Xinlin's mind.
"That's not the case."
"At the last moment of my life, all I thought about was if there was an afterlife..."
"Going to the beach is not suicide for love."
"I don't mean to turn myself into a sad, beautiful reincarnation story."
"I want..."
I want to spend this day well. Facing the ocean and the sea breeze. I don’t know if there is reincarnation, and I don’t consider reincarnation. At that moment, I looked at the sea and wanted to sing.
I also want to...
Qing's voice finally disappeared. That voice was weak, pale, and sharp. It belonged to no one but An Xilin, who had drowned in the sea.
And at this moment, An Xilin made such a sound.
"Fu..." He said in a dazed voice, as if distorted by some force, "Fu Qi..."
"In unison... bro."
He held the card in his hand and finally said out again the nickname he had called Mr. Fu in his previous life, which he had only dared to call him secretly in his heart.
…
"An Xinlin's camera has been there for a while. Where did he go?"
"It seems that he is alone in the room just now - hey, the painting just now was bumped into the blind spot of the surveillance camera by Host Wang, so it can't be captured. Wait, the surveillance camera in that room is stuck!"
"… There shouldn't be any danger. There are no ghosts in the world." Someone was lucky enough to say.
But Yu Rongshi still asked someone to call the communicator that An Lin carried with him. The communicator was quickly connected, and An Lin's voice was very tired: "I'm fine, nothing is wrong. It's just that there is something... I dropped it in that room."
"That's good." Yu Rongshi said, frowning, "Do you need any help?"
He had a vague feeling of something strange, not danger, just something strange.
An Xinlin's voice on the other end of the line paused, then said, "No need. I'll stay here for a while. I need to... think about it."
The call was disconnected. Yu Rongshi frowned. The staff standing next to him asked curiously, "What did An Xinlin lose?"
"He didn't bring anything to throw away."
"I don't know."
…
On the other side, the female writer sitting on the sofa finally told the truth in tears.
"I just saw it, I really saw it! I saw three ghosts during the psychic... three ghosts dressed in black... I really saw them!" She spoke incoherently, "They were very ugly and cursing."
Chi Jixia sat beside her, comforting her with kind words. Bo Jiang frowned, and handed her a tissue in a gentlemanly manner. Host Wang looked at this scene and sighed from the bottom of his heart.
They were both fake charlatans, but this female writer acted much better than him! Looking at her, she acted very realistically, as if she had really seen a ghost. If he hadn't signed a performance contract with Mr. Fu, maybe even Wang the host himself would be fooled into believing it!
Unfortunately, there are no ghosts in this temple. The love story between Miss Yang, Miss Four and the Third Master is just a fabrication by Fu Qisheng, a good man, in order to pursue his wife. But Wang Zhizhu does not intend to expose the female writer - they are all in the same field of metaphysics, so there is no need to fight against each other.
He was just a little curious whether this female writer had received money from Mr. Fu to be the atmosphere group for the ghost story. Otherwise, how could she perform so hard
"What kind of ghosts are you talking about?" After his own set was disrupted by the Painted Skin Ghost, Chi Jixia was thinking that it was better to believe it than not.
Under his gentle comfort, the female writer finally sobbed and continued: "There was a man... two women..."
—The number of people matches. It turns out that this girl is indeed making it up, Wang Zhu thought.
"… I didn't know that the room was the Fu family's ancestral hall where they worshipped their ancestors, so I just walked in. Then I accidentally fell asleep, and when I was distracted, I dreamed of…"
"What did you see?" Bo Jiang frowned, "These three people are the souls of those who died violently, they should..."
"Don't repeat your previous obsession." Ding Biehan leaned against the wall, clasping his hands and looking coldly.
Female writer: "I saw... the two women holding hands and arguing with the man..."
Host Wang: ?
Others: ?
Program team: ?
What is the female writer talking about
Yu Rongshi lowered his eyes. He looked at the surveillance video and felt that the situation was becoming even more confusing.
Maybe I really need to check the Fu family's information.
He lowered his head and looked at his laptop. At this moment, a staff member said, "Why is Yi Wan not in the corridor? Oh... He is walking this way. But it seems..."
"Someone stopped me. Let me see... It was Fu Qisheng."