My name is Liu Wu and I am 33 years old.

Growing up in an orphanage, the words in books were my best friend.

Especially the anecdotes of the ghosts and ghosts.

In 2007, I was a senior.

The first time I started to contact online articles, because I liked it, but also because of money.

Of course, I'm a street fighter.

I had been writing my first book for almost a year, and I was about to finish my senior year.

My roommates were all out happy, and I was left alone sitting in front of the computer, crackling on the keyboard.

800,000 words, 1 favorite, 1 subscription.

Yes, you read that right, it's 1.

177 comments, all from one person.

With a helpless wry smile at the screen, I typed down a line:

"Thank you for your support in the past year, I have already applied for this book, I guess I am not this piece of material at all, and I don't plan to write it again in the future, thank you again for your support and companionship over the past year."

Clicking publish, my heart suddenly felt a little sour.

"Ding"

A new reply pops up on the screen:

“QQ35*****725”

For this one and only fan, I suddenly had a strong curiosity.

QQ flashes, click on.

Just three words:

"Write it down"

I sent a wry smile and told her:

"After graduation, I have to work, otherwise I won't have anything to eat."

She is still the same three words:

"Write it down"

I shook my head helplessly, a little frustrated.

Say a polite goodbye and go to bed.

When I arrived at the classroom early the next morning, a classmate told me that the doorman had my package.

Surprised, I asked again to make sure I heard correctly.

I'm almost out of college for four years, and I haven't received a single package.

If it weren't for the scholarship and part-time work, I wouldn't have been able to pay the tuition fees for the past few years.

Who will send me something?

Unwrapping the refrigerator-sized package, there were ten boxes of instant noodles in bags.

The roommate, who was originally full of anticipation, was stunned for a moment, and then laughed.

Among them, the one with the largest mouth and the most happy smile is called Liang Zhuo.

The family conditions are good, so naturally some people look down on people.

"Liu Wu, you are really a talent, this is your ration for a year after graduation?"

I glanced at him and didn't speak.

The next morning, I was woken up by the screams of the housekeeper.

She sat slumped in the bathroom doorway, horror written across her pale face, and a fishy smell emanating from beneath her.

Liang Zhuo sat on the floor of the bathroom, his eyes wide open, already dead.

His belly was scary, looking bigger than a woman who was pregnant with twins.

There was also a pile of soaked instant noodles on his chest, which looked like he should have spit out.

The police quickly arrived and took me back to the police station.

Because those instant noodles are mine.

In the afternoon, the results came out and I was released.

There is no problem with instant noodles, he is holding to death.

I heard that his stomach was burst, and his entire abdominal cavity was full of instant noodles.

No wonder his belly is so bulging.

Back in the dormitory, no one else was there.

Turn on the computer, QQ is flashing, and there is a message:

"Your story can start with instant noodles."

A chill rushes from the tail vertebrae to the scalp.

I bounced out of my chair with a "whoosh" and looked around in horror.

There are no anomalies.

Suppressing my deep fear, I typed out a few words:

"Who the hell are you?"

After a long time, the other party replied:

"Your Fans"

Frightened, I got up and ran out the door, bumping into a guy head-on.

The man didn't say a word, and when he raised his hand, he had a big mouth, and he hit me with gold stars in my eyes.

A woman rushed out from behind him, howling and pushing and hitting me:

"You murderer, you give my son back......"

Tears washed the thick powder on his face out of several deep furrows.

I was powerless to refute it.

The security guards who arrived took them away.

I sat weakly in front of my computer, trembling and clicking on the flashing penguin head.

"You write well, keep writing"

My hairs stood on end, and I quickly closed QQ.

It was already three days before I finished my graduation thesis.

The ghost sent the gods.,I logged in to that QQ again.。

The avatar is still flashing, and there are two comments:

"A senior student at a certain school died of eating instant noodles in the washroom, and after the police autopsy, they found that all the internal organs in his abdominal cavity had disappeared, and only full of instant noodles."

"This is a good subject and can be used as a starting point for the first volume."

Cold sweat ran down his forehead, but he couldn't suppress the curiosity in his heart.

Trembling replied:

"Who the hell are you? Can you tell me? ”

A gust of wind blew, the lights in the house went out instantly, and something fell to the ground, making a "boring and long" sound.

Turning his head sharply, a red figure flashed through the window.

"Who?!"

I shouted.

Then his legs went limp, and he fell to the ground.

Our dormitory is on the 6th floor!

Then the faint starlight outside the window, I struggled to move towards the door.

But half an hour later, I was still in the same place.

Crisp heels stepped on the ground in an elegant rhythm and walked towards me from all directions.

My eyes went black and I lost consciousness.

It seems that I had a dream about a woman dressed in red.

The face is like a hibiscus, and the body is like catkins. Tingting walked down the stairs.

My gaze followed her swaying figure until she gently snuggled into a man's arms.

I saw the deep disgust in the man's eyes, and I saw him pour some powdered stuff into her glass.

watched her raise her head elegantly, drank it all, and wanted to remind her, but she couldn't make a sound.

The man looked lewd and pressed her down on the couch.

Her eyes were misty, her cheeks were red, and she sang softly.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a dozen men walked in.

They vary in attire, skin color, and even black people with red fruit bodies.

Hanging from his crotch was something the size of a baby's arm.

The woman's eyes became more and more misty, completely immersed in desire.

After the man on his body finished venting, another man pressed up.

Women twist their bodies unwillingly, chasing the most primitive pleasures.

A dozen men, in turn, cycle in turn.

The woman's voice gradually weakened, her eyes slowly dimmed, and the sofa was soaked in a layer of blood.

The fifth time the black man pressed against her body and shook her body, her hand hammered down weakly.

A group of men surrounded her corpse, took out the dicks and urinated en masse, laughed and turned away.

In her round eyes, I saw endless unwillingness and resentment.

After a while, the man at first brought in two wolfdogs that were half a man tall.

Then he untied the wolfdog's chains.

Her corpse was quickly gnawed away.

After the two wolfdogs had eaten their fill, the remaining bones and scraps of meat were collected and thrown into a well in the courtyard outside, where some lime was poured and finally the well was filled to death.

I struggled to make a sound, to stop them, but in vain.

When I woke up, I found myself lying on the bed, covered in cold sweat.

The computer screen is still on, and QQ's penguins are flickering and jumping.

Tremblingly clicked on, there was an offline message:

"Write Your Dreams into Fiction"

My hand shook, and the mouse "snapped" to the ground......