Again, I heard the sound of the window lingering distinctly, but this time it came earlier, not at the break, but in the darkness of the night. And it wasn't a waterfall-like roar, nor was it a rock-falling roar. No, neither, certainly not that noisy. What I heard was two people talking under my window, two grown men, who couldn't make out the accent of the, but their tone of voice gave the impression that they were neither sneaky nor emotional, as if they were just chatting, and a sentence or two came out every once in a while. Well, yes, what's all the fuss about someone outside the window, even after dark? maybe, but what kind of person would suddenly linger on the lawn behind someone's house at three o'clock in the middle of the night and laugh and laugh for nearly an hour? Yes, suddenly, because there was only that kind of relaxed conversation, and no footsteps could be heard, no wheels or metal could be heard, no wild cats or wild dogs or birds could be alarmed, and not even a little light could be seen. ”

"Sure enough, some people think I'm making up supernatural stories to scare people, and I know, I have to say, your imagination is rich! Don't worry, I know in my heart that they won't come to kill me or come into my house to rob me, as you fear. First, I don't have anything of value to rob, and second, if you want to kill me, I won't be able to say these things to you today. I mean, when someone came and took my life, my soul must have been destroyed. So, it doesn't matter who made the sound last night, it doesn't matter what they say or who they say it to, what matters is why. In my eyes, the answer was simple: they were there, and I heard it. Yes, the point is that I can hear the sound there. ”

"Please understand me, it's easy to misunderstand what I mean. For me, even if those two people were reciting poetry or discussing profound life and philosophical issues, they were no different from the sound of waterfalls and falling rocks, and its significance was not in what it expressed, but in itself. As with every voice before me, it was a reminder, or a urge, of the fate I was about to meet. Over the years, I have tried several times to reverse or avoid this fate, but it is still approaching, and I am convinced by the successive blows of facts that I will have no choice but to lie in bed and accept it. It was this that made me feel cruel and helpless - no matter how much I struggled, I could not get rid of it, and all the hopes that had flashed in my life eventually turned into despair. Well, in that case, I'm willing to try to wait quietly for it to come, but not silently, and if destruction is the final end, then at least I don't want to let it brew in silence. ”

"Thank you for your concern, it looks like you're more nervous or excited than I am, hehe. Relax, I'm very calm. Yes, I didn't make a typo, it's indeed 'calm' not 'shocked', hehe. Many of my friends seem to want to figure out the meaning of my destruction, and I myself am more inclined to point you to the root of it—that those who love me are forever gone from me. Before the next group of people who laugh at me and call me crazy react to this, I need to interpret it myself. You don't have to persuade me with words like 'There is no grass at the end of the world', but love as a word has more than one meaning, and I have completely lost all meaning. That's right, it's not just the other half of my life who has left me, but also everyone who has enveloped me with warmth and melted me with the deepest and most sincere feelings since I was a child. Hehe, in fact, there are only a handful of such people, so I cherish them very much, but they have all been with me forever. Alas, this is fate! Curse? No, it's not called a curse. The curse comes, any effort is in vain, and in the face of fate, in addition to following the general trend it has set for you, you can also complete some detailed work that has nothing to do with the big picture, and now, I am ready to do this kind of work. Why? Because they, though irrelevant to the bigger picture, allow me to make up for my greatest regrets before the destruction comes. ”

These are the four long Weibo posts that were suddenly sent out on the Internet at 12 o'clock the night before, and as soon as they were published, they were reprinted and recommended in a surging manner. When people turned on their phones and computers the next morning, the headlines about the four Weibo posts were crowded into the top of various consultation lists: "Anonymous Person's Weibo Left a Desperate Letter", "What Kind of Dilemma Forced Him or Her Mysterious Confession", "Keywords Composed of Destruction, Fate and Love", ...... In the comment area, some netizens expressed sympathy, comfort and encouragement to the author, hoping that he would not "think about it", "be discouraged" or "ignore the good side of life". However, this is only a small number of people, and more comments are either mild or fierce to raise questions and questions, and the comments of these two factions are trending in five or five. The questioners are eager to know what tragic things the author has experienced, and many of them have a curious mentality, and at the same time they have begun to imitate Sherlock Holmes to analyze the cocoon, and at the same time sigh about the cold state of the world: "If people know what grievances are hidden, maybe they can not only save this person, but also cure this sick society." The skeptics are not directed at the author's attitude, but at his motives. The commenters unabashedly pointed out that the author made a fuss, grandstanding, and was obviously suspected of hype, and he (or she) was psychologically fragile and had poor endurance. "It's just two homeless people who sneak up to your wall and talk a few words, and you think the sky is going to fall. "There are even those who seem to be indignant, "This kind of incomprehensible information can be pushed to such a high front, how much money did the promoters charge this disease-free moaning guy", "Look, after two days, after earning enough clicks and enough sympathy, he will eat these desperate Weibo posts, and then post a warm thank you letter". In addition, some people complained that their messages supporting the author had been deleted: "Damn, if I say a word of support, it will be deleted! People who write desperate letters only dare to express their sadness and swallow the truth back into their stomachs, can't we even tell the truth?"

Yugong saw the four texts through a link reposted on his son's Weibo. Yes, he and his group members don't use Weibo and WeChat, but when he goes online, he uses a search engine to click on his son's Weibo without registering, so that he can see limited content, but he doesn't visit it as often as he wants. It just so happened that today, the links to these four articles occupy the headlines of his son's Weibo.

The wording of those titles and messages inevitably has an element of exaggeration, but Yugong summed up the main doubts from them. The four articles as a whole are indeed like riddles, never pointing out the essence of the problem, which makes people see in the clouds; their style is also disordered and abruptly changing; the self-questions and answers in the last article give people a sense of inexplicability, which will directly lead people to speculate that the author's thoughts and even psychological state are not completely normal, and a very few comments seriously suggest that he consult a psychiatrist. However, compared to other viewers, Yu Gong's perspective is not limited to this, because the author of the four Weibo posts is "Jin Xiao Hongyan".

Is it a coincidence? Probably now, the police investigating the disappearance have also noticed this. Yu Gong thought. He had a printout of the chat logs that White Snake had copied in his hand. If you string together the chat records one by one, you should be able to form such an article, right? So, is this "Jin Xiao Hongyan" the other "Xiao Hongyan today", or "Jerry's Tom"?