"Liang Qian, this is the seventh and last letter I have written to you.

I killed someone.

He will also be punished for his sins.

Do you believe in fate? I didn't believe it before, but now I do.

It's as if there is a destiny in the dark, and from the moment I was born, my destiny has been written.

Whether I was struggling or in pain, it was there, quietly watching me.

Step into the cycle of fate. ”

It's a letter from a pen pal that is tucked between one of my old books. My name is Chang Yuan, and Liang Qian was my pen name at the time.

It originated from my mother's phone call a while ago that my hometown's house might be demolished, and I laughed it off at the time.

In recent years, the demolition and rectification plan has been in full swing, and how many people have become millionaires or own several houses through demolition, so rural residents are all looking forward to the successful implementation of this plan.

The stalk of "demolition" in my hometown has been mentioned for at least eight years, and it has been demolished every year, but it has not been demolished so far. Even in the first two years, there were people stationed in the size, but after the measurement, there was no follow-up. So I became numb after listening to it too much, and I didn't take it seriously, but my mother swore that she would be able to tear it down this time, and she began to tidy up the things in the old house.

A few days later, she would send me a box of my things, all of which were books I had read in my early years.

That afternoon, on a whim, I saw the box of books resting in the corner and thought that I might as well clean it up, but unexpectedly, a yellowed white envelope fell out of a certain book.

I bent down to pick it up, and found that the letter was still sealed, and pinched the thickness, apparently there was still a letter inside. The address on the envelope is from my hometown, and the recipient is me, but there is no address and name of the sender.

In the modern society of Internet interconnection, the exchange of letters has long been eliminated. I vaguely only remember that I had communicated letters with people during junior high school, and I had a few pen pals at that time, and they all corresponded for a while, and then they slowly stopped contacting due to various factors.

I tore open the envelope and pulled out the paper, and then, frozen.

Is the seventh letter also a last letter?

I do not know.

But I woke up from a nightmare that night, sweating profusely and remembering that there was a pair of black eyes staring at me, and my mind was wandering around the contents of the letter and the strange patterns.

I didn't wait until dawn to call a high school classmate who had graduated from a police academy, and he told me that it was probably a pen pal prank. First of all, if the pen pal was the same age as me, he was only thirteen or fourteen years old twelve years ago, and he was not very capable of killing. Secondly, if he did kill someone, how could he have written it down so hastily in a letter with a pen pal?

In addition, he said that without evidence and without evidence, it is difficult to file a case with a letter from an unknown source.

In fact, I also think it's ridiculous, a letter from an unsigned and vaguely remembered pen pal, unopened but tucked away in my old book, the content is still as terrifying. But the question is, what is the strange pattern that lingers in my mind after the nightmare?

It didn't work out, and I kept having that same nightmare until one day......

The gears of fate officially began to kick in, and I walked into an irresistible vortex, and since then I have been sinking deeper and deeper.

Many years later, when I looked back, I recognized the last words of the pen pal letter.

Fate, it was written early in the morning, and I can't help but believe it.

Whether I was struggling or in pain, it was there, quietly watching me.

Step into the cycle of fate.