(Again: Our common goal is to unravel the answer to the letter of death, and to complete it, Amen!) ）

When I opened my mailbox, the (+1) next to my inbox stopped in the upper right corner of the screen in crimson color, and I had a bad feeling that there was a door to death standing in that location, and I would regret it when I clicked on it. Pen % fun % Pavilion www.biquge.info

"Click", unaware of it, as if under a spell, my finger had clicked the left mouse button and clicked on the email—

"Koeda, Bridge, @#¥%...... Reply"

The paradoxical content made me feel like a fog, "Who sent this email?" When I childishly cursed after my own question, those three words grabbed my eyeballs like lightning - "lily of the valley puppet"

It's a joke for sure! I blew up......

A more terrible sensation than walking alone at night and hearing strange footsteps behind me creep up my cheeks from the soles of my feet, my pores expanding unlimitedly, screaming to tell me that my heart was overpumping, it was beating violently, carrying a huge panic and then beating regardless of life or death, I had to quickly close the page to calm myself and prevent me from really dying in front of this letter.

The "Lily of the Valley Golem" - I am no stranger to this, I know that it killed many students in the first year of high school D ten years ago with brutality and unkindness, and it was in the name of "accidents" that I understood its other metaphor - death like a textbook.

Nine times out of ten, this is a joke made by some idiot at school and me, I don't believe it!

But the sender doesn't have an email address, and the blank space under the name instantly makes me feel that it's normal to have no address, but - is it possible?

I opened the friends bar again, and Kihara still didn't speak, his avatar was like a dried corpse that had been refrigerated for tens of thousands of years, frozen there, and although it was lit, he would never contact me again. I threw him one last sentence and turned off the computer—

Me: It's better to wait for you to die, at least you'll come.

I changed into my cotton pajamas and climbed into bed, ready to sleep, and after a few minutes, my actions and thoughts were at odds, and I climbed out of bed and turned on my computer again...... Open the mailbox...... Opened the letter.

"What does that mean?"

I wrote back, hoping that the person who was joking with me would realize that it was going to be in vain, and that I would just turn a deaf ear...... However, my hands were visibly deprived of temperature like those of a person in shock.

In the hours that followed, I realized that I had underestimated my attention to the matter and overestimated my ability to ignore a prank.

Under the incandescent light as white as the shroud, I spent most of the night with my dry and bloodshot eyes wide open, and spent most of the night by the computer, I didn't wait for any reply, I began to regret sending the reply letter, so that it seemed that I was as stupid as I was in the scheme, maybe the other party was laughing at me in front of another computer, and at this end, I was so frightened that my stomach hurt, this is the body's stress response, but everyone's reaction organ is different, in short, I will have stomach pain when I am afraid, quite ridiculous.

At five o'clock in the morning, drowsiness attacked me, and I fell asleep on my desk as if I had confessed my guilt, face down, my hands limp at my sides, almost in a posture of worshipping the email that was still fixed on the monitor, the letter from the lily of the valley puppet. When I was asleep, he stared at me silently......

In fact, I may have only been asleep for an hour, and when the alarm went off, I opened my eyes and lost sensation - due to the improper sleeping position, the twisting and compression of the cervical spine, the only thing I felt was that I felt paralyzed.

The central nervous system struggled to power up, and it was finally a few minutes before I struggled to get up from my chair, the computer still waking up, and the letter was more like a signpost on the Lethe River, pointing to the gates of hell. I waved to it as I said goodbye to an old friend—"boring joke," I muttered casually, and turned off the computer.

After changing my clothes and washing my face, I met my father in the dining room with my school bag and he was frying bread in butter.

"Xiaoxi, go to school after eating, you have to learn to eat breakfast."

I have always hated breakfast, I know that I have to go through the restaurant to go out, I can only raise my eyes and ask for my mother's help, she never forces me to eat breakfast, she knows that I will be sick to my stomach as soon as I eat in the morning, when only my mother is there in the morning, she just smiles and watches me go out, waving to me, the eyes are soft and fragrant like the cherry blossom petals in March, I will look back at her step by step...... It was the most wonderful breakfast I felt before going to that nasty school.

But she's not here at this time! Maybe it's still sleeping in the upstairs bedroom, in the early morning dream. With no reinforcements, I walked to the table and picked up my glass, hoping that my mother would appear at the door of the restaurant when I drank the first sip of cold water...... It's sad! She didn't come after all, I looked at the greasy bread in despair, especially the yolk of the fried egg in the middle, and suddenly my body spasmed, and all the organs below the esophagus were stirring, and I bent down violently - vomited.

"Xiao Xi-" My father put down the things in his hand and ran towards me, but suddenly stopped a few steps away from me, a trace of gloom flashed in the man's concerned expression, and I unfortunately glimpsed it when I wiped my mouth with a tissue, just like before, when I vomited desperately in front of him in front of the breakfast he made, he was actually very annoyed, which was equivalent to a straightforward and naked proof that the food he spent cooking early in the morning was regarded by me as excrement, as the uncrowned king of the pottery world, Admired and admired by artists who strive for perfection and despise mortals, how can he stand the fact that my reaction to his own work is to vomit.

"I'm sorry, you know I don't eat breakfast-" I lowered my eyes to the ground, not wanting to see the transformation of his face, which was perfect in the eyes of many women and men as the Creator's God, tended to be angry, and on the other hand, he was timid, because he was my father, and he would beat me when he went crazy, regardless of the mode of life and death, I would never want a tragedy to happen in this fresh morning with blue sky and white clouds and morning dew **** petals.

"Xiaoxi, bring a title when you speak, I am your father, please call me father, don't let me remind you again."

He said in a very soft voice, I could hear that he was trying to suppress his anger, that tenderness that had no limits before the outburst was outrageous, and I could imagine how the anger that followed was like thunder in the sky that made the liver tremble.

I looked up at him again, and my vocal cords were hard to pronounce two notes: "Father—" I thought I was calm, but my intermittent trembling body betrayed me.

My father took two more steps closer to me, and I did not dare to retreat, I could only stand in place like a stake, and I did not dare to bow my head, and he did not like that I did not look at him when he lectured me, so I could only look at him seriously, and almost wanted to look at his handsome and extraordinary face as close as he did...... If it were an ordinary woman, she would be impressed by his half-trapped expression with a pursed smile at this time, like a bewitchment cast by a demon law, no one can resist. But I understand the meaning behind this expression, like a rose with a scorpion hidden, and I know it well enough to kill people under its glamorous surface.

"Xiaoxi, I know you don't eat breakfast, but I have made it very clear just now, I am making you learn to eat breakfast, do you know the consequences of often skipping breakfast? Your stomach will rot like the sexual organs of a prostitute-woman. His voice was already as sharp as a knife, and his eyes burned me like tongs.

Under this extremely apt wording, I hurriedly grabbed the greasy piece of bread on the plate, which was still dripping with thick egg yolk, and devoured it into my mouth, and the tears that unconsciously fell from my eyes, it tasted wonderful.

The moment I escaped from the house for the rest of my life, before I could turn a tree that would prevent my father from seeing me, I was secretly vomiting from the tree...... In the violent convulsions of the esophagus, my eyes blurred and I saw my mother standing in front of the bedroom window on the second floor, looking at me silently, her long curly hair like a vine hanging down her shoulders, and her long white skirt on the floor, with a little tiredness, no different from the white lotus in the river smoke, she was very beautiful.

I smiled and waved at her, wiping the corners of my mouth nonchalantly to indicate that I was okay, and then turned to the station to the school.

When I stepped into the gate of Shaojian Middle School, I was as pampered and unfazed as usual, and no one could see that I was still strangling my aesthetics with my vomit by the big tree just now.

This morning was destined to be different from any previous morning, because when I almost began to forget the filth and calmly walked to the teaching building, a classmate came up to greet me—

"Ruriki, wait a minute."

It was Yukie Utsumi, her name like lightning splitting from the peaceful sky with pale pink clouds, and it hit the little memory in my mind that was almost obscured by my father's poppy-like beautiful and poisonous face in the morning, and I almost forgot the email I received in the middle of the night in my forgetfulness, it was Yukieda, the name mentioned in the letter, it was my classmate Yukieda.

"Something?" I answered her lukewarmly, and I was the enemy of the public, just as the sinners who should be thrown into the fire pit and roasted to death on Judgment Day.

"I saw you boarding the train at the station in Oak Town, where do you live?"

In fact, her tone was much friendlier than mine, and she had a slightly sweet-as-sugar smile of a sixteen-year-old girl, but all the "smiles" of this morning were ill-intentioned in my eyes.

"Does it have anything to do with you?" I asked stiffly.

"No, it's just that my house is also nearby, and I wanted to greet you when I met you just now, but ......" Her hesitant look made me realize that the embarrassment of being embarrassed and destitute before might have been seen by others, and even remembered, and I was as hostile as a cat with its tail stepped on.

"But what?"

"Don't get me wrong, I just saw that you had a bad face and thought you were sick, so-"

"I'm not sick, is there a bridge near your house?" I asked.

"Huh? What bridge? Nope—"

She shook her head and hurried away from my back with evasion, like a mania escaping from a mental hospital, and perhaps because of my strange questioning, she had been scared back to my hostile camp when she wanted to make an alliance.

However, I didn't focus on what she had said, but instead of focusing on what she had said—there was no bridge near Yukieda's house, and I remember that there was no bridge near my house, and there was no bridge near the school—then, if Yukieda had just been going back and forth between school and home as usual, she would have been fine for the past three days.

I don't know how I came up with such absurd logical thinking, I know that the person who received the letter from the lily of the valley puppet ten years ago will have an accident three days later, even though the recipient is me, and when I mention Koeda, I always think that it is the name of the victim. So, in the past three days, I also began to pay special attention to Koeda, but she began to think that I was a lewd homosexual, and she walked with her classmates every time she got out of school, and her avoidance of me was raised to a higher level, and I also added the crime of "impropriety" like an epidemic.

My classmates hate me even more!

On the third day, I still silently followed Yukieda home, although I couldn't completely "follow" her to her door, and in that case I guessed that she would definitely call the police, and when I got off the bus at my house, I could only secretly wish Yukieda to live until the fourth day.

As a result, on the morning of the fourth day, I learned that Yukieda had died, and it was the evening after she returned home that I had not been able to see on the third day, and she went out and died on the bridge in Oga-cho.