After paying for the car, Zhang Luo got out of the car in the driver's sharp eyes of "Congratulations to the plague god", and walked quickly towards the entrance of his own building.

He took the elevator to the fourth floor, took out the key from his pocket and opened the door, and after entering the house, he did not turn around and close the door as usual, but stood in front of the door and frowned slightly, staring at the shoes on the floor:

"Something isn't right."

Zhang Luo, who usually calls himself a "master of curiosity research", in order to prevent thieves from stealing his research results, the security measures at his home are very in place. As long as someone sneaks into his house, even an agent-level figure can't escape his eyes.

And now, as soon as he got home, he immediately noticed that there were traces left by an intruder at the door.

The two pairs of slippers that I put at the door, the position has changed subtly, and the atmosphere in the room is not quite right, obviously I didn't close the curtains before leaving, but the current light in the living room is a little dim, which is completely inconsistent with the current noon appearance.

Someone had come in through the main entrance, but there was no sign of leaving. On the anti-theft door that I found someone to specially modify, there was no sign of picking the lock, that is-

Is there a master lockpicker comparable to Houdini, who sneaks into his home and then doesn't leave, but stays in the house all the time?

Thinking of this, Zhang Luo had already made up a tall and powerful murderous demon holding an axe, standing at the corner in front of him with a cruel smile, waiting for him to "send his head to the door".

- Although he can kill a Navy SEAL soldier in close combat, he can't take an unknown intruder lightly. Zhang Luo, who was still wearing the previous military uniform, quietly pulled out the teeth of the water monster that had been hanging on his belt, and walked into the house without changing his shoes. Set your eyes on the spacious living room with poor lighting.

Two seconds later......

He retracted the knife from its scabbard, turned back to change into his slippers, and strode over to the black couch in the living room, nudging the shoulders of the guy who was curled up on the couch and snorting:

"It's time to get up."

"Hmm......" the man lying on the couch muttered indistinctly.

"I'm going to call the police if I don't get up again." Zhang Luo slapped the other party again as he spoke.

"Well, you're bothered......"

From under the messy dark brown hair, a pair of narrow and clear pupils appeared. The long-haired lady in a set of white "Mr. Rabbit" pajamas sat up while rubbing her eyes, and complained loudly in anger:

"What's the noise in the morning...... So you're not dead, huh? ”

"I'm really sorry I didn't die."

Zhang Luo said and sat on the other end of the sofa, threw his mobile phone and wallet on the glass coffee table in front of him, and wanted to take a piece of chocolate but found that the food on the coffee table had already been wiped out, leaving only a large pile of wrapping paper, so he frowned slightly:

"So, what is the situation of a supernatural magazine editor who has a lot of opportunities to go to the author's house to sleep? You'd better explain, or I'm going to call the police. ”

"It's not because you're too procrastinating, the others have already delivered the manuscript, and you don't even have a shadow......" The royal sister brushed aside a strand of long hair blocking her forehead.

"How did you get in?" Zhang Luo asked.

"The last time I came to your house to urge the draft, I took advantage of the opportunity to go downstairs to buy something and secretly assigned a key, am I too witty?" The royal sister smiled proudly.

"Stealing someone else's house key can be said to be so reasonable, probably only you." Zhang Luo stared at the long-haired woman sitting on the sofa.

This guy is the editor-in-chief of his resident supernatural magazine, and he is also a well-known writer of youth literature - Jian Tong.

As a woman who became famous by writing innocent love stories on campus, it is already strange to become the editor-in-chief of a supernatural magazine. But there is another characteristic of this person, which makes her "destined to be lonely all her life", that is-

"Boy, I thought you died in the train accident, it turns out that the 'sole survivor' in the news is you, hahaha!" Jian Tong patted Zhang Luo's shoulder vigorously.

That's right, although this guy is quite beautiful, he is a complete "female man". In a sense, even stronger than men.

Not going to discuss the topic of trains at all, Zhang Luo changed his words: "Don't count on my manuscript in this issue of the magazine, I just came out of the hospital and am still a little empty." ”

"How's that going to work? A large number of fans are waiting to listen to 'Uncle Zhang's nonsense, if your manuscript is not published, the magazine's sales may decline again. Recently, our kind of paper publications are getting more and more difficult to mix. Jian Tong stood up and draped her long hair over her shoulders, and out of nowhere, she found the foundation and a small mirror, and began to quickly touch up her makeup in the living room.

"Tell them that Uncle Zhang's old rheumatism has been committed again, and he can't hold a pen." Zhang Luo casually said a reason that had been used several times.

When he first submitted to the magazine, he used the pen name "Uncle Zhang" out of the mentality of "it doesn't matter if you don't have it". Unexpectedly, the first time I voted for "The Last Subway That Disappeared" was on the magazine, and it was well received, but it was not easy to change the pen name later, so I had to continue to use it.

"Come on, you've had rheumatism five times, three strokes, two hemiplegia, and one cerebral hemorrhage. Doesn't it really blush to continue using this kind of reason? Jian Tong showed a look of hatred for iron but not steel.

"Since they can even accept the reason of cerebral hemorrhage, it is not a big deal to continue rheumatism." Zhang Luo smiled: "After all, people are old, and it is unavoidable to have a little problem......

Hearing this, Jian Tong was silent for a moment, and then finally nodded: "Okay, this time, for the sake of your immortality, I will find someone else to replace your column this time." But I want to ask...... How does it feel to be on the line between life and death? ”

"I don't know, I passed out." Zhang Luo's face did not change and his heart did not beat.

What happened on the train is still vivid, but it is naturally impossible to say that kind of thing, otherwise even the editor-in-chief of the supernatural magazine is likely to think of himself as a mental patient.

"Alright then, since you're okay kid, I'll go first."

Jian Tong said as he walked into the bedroom and closed the door, changed into his usual light blue professional clothes, and quickly left Zhang Luo's house.

"What kind of trouble is that guy, he actually trespasses into a private house...... Zhang Luo sighed.

After taking out the refrigerated canned food from the refrigerator and serving it as "dinner", after eating, Zhang Luo returned to the bedroom, fell asleep at a speed comparable to that of a coma, and lost consciousness almost immediately.

……

I don't know how long it took, a ray of blue light in his eyes slowly regained consciousness, and then he immediately came to his senses:

"Huh?"

Looking at the scene through the dim glow of the small light bulb above his head, he found himself in a small room that resembled a storage room.

The wall in front of him was leaning against empty shelves, and on the wall facing him was a dilapidated brown wooden door, and next to it hung a portrait of the Mona Lisa, which looked quite old.

Although there was still a strange sense of incongruity in his body, his consciousness was amazingly clear, and Zhang Luo soon realized that unlike the events that happened on the train before, he was not currently entering the alienated real world. Rather—

"Is it a dream?" He muttered to himself.

Subsequently, the "Mona Lisa" hanging on the wall answered his question in a strong male voice:

"You got it right!"