Mystery

My ex, the Film Emperor, publicly called me a resource hunter on a show.

When the whole internet told me to get out of the entertainment industry, I awakened the Acting System.

Ding! Skill acquired: [Murderer]: You will master all knowledge and abilities related to murder.

Me: What kind of hellish System is this?

Later, the villainess I played was selected for the Acting Hall of Fame Textbook, and when I received the award, the audience was filled with people from Criminal Investigation (Investigation Unit), forensic experts, and prosecutors.

Netizens: Someone should investigate her-this doesn’t look like acting!

My son was being pestered by another boy.

The teacher called and asked me to come to the school.

When I arrived, he shouted at me for the first time. “Mom, what’s wrong with me liking boys?”

I looked at him, feeling neither anger nor resentment.

I crouched down and asked him in a low voice, “Then how can you be sure that you like boys?”

At 11:30 PM, I was home alone and ordered some takeout.

When the map showed the delivery driver was zero meters away, my phone rang.

I picked up, but there was nothing but silence on the other end-an eerie, unsettling quiet.

Impatient, I hung up. Just then, the driver sent me a private message: [I’m so sorry. I’m deaf and mute. I called you just to make sure you’d know your food had arrived immediately, but I couldn’t explain the situation over the phone. Please forgive me.]

[You must be waiting. I’ve already left the food at your door. Please pick it up as soon as possible.]

I was just about to open the door when several lines of bullet comments suddenly drifted across my vision.

[Don’t open the door! That person outside isn’t a delivery driver at all-he’s a murderer!]

[He called you so he could hear your voice and confirm whether you’re a woman living alone!]

[I’m so over this. The protagonists in these horror stories are always so brainless. This delivery guy is obviously suspicious, yet she’s still going to open the door.]

When I was a child, my father once gave me a ten-yuan bill as pocket money.

He said he had picked it up on the road.

I remember very clearly that on the back of that bill, written in black ink, was a line:

“There is a pyramid scheme on the fifth floor. Help.”

I took the money to show my father, and he smiled and told me,

“Who knows how many people have used this bill? Who knows when those words were written? Maybe the person who wrote them has already been rescued.”

I was in a hurry to buy chocolate, so I didn’t think much about it.

Because chocolate is sweet, after all.

Not long after, there was a piece of news on TV.

“A man mistakenly entered a pyramid scheme den, was beaten to death, and then dismembered.”

As a child, I stared blankly at the television.

My father also stared blankly at the television.

I asked him what was wrong.

He shouted at me angrily, telling me not to meddle in his business, and then left the house.

At the time, I didn’t know what was going on; I just felt confused.

It wasn’t until the New Year, at the family dinner, that my father got drunk and cried uncontrollably. In front of all the relatives, he confessed to picking up that bill.

The place where he found the money was directly below the den mentioned in the news.

In other words, the words on that ten-yuan bill were very likely written by someone who had fallen into that pyramid scheme, possibly even the person who was dismembered.

He sobbed, clutching a bottle of liquor, saying that it was his fault that the man died. The whole family comforted him, but I just stood aside, dumbfounded and at a loss.

So… I used that money to buy chocolate…

Something indescribable seemed to awaken within me.

Throughout my later life, I would often think of that ten-yuan bill.

I wondered, was the original owner of that money alright? Was he really rescued? Or… did that money really come from the man who was dismembered?

If it really came from him, he must have endured painful beatings and inhuman torture before finally seizing a chance one day to write those words for help on the bill and toss it out the window.

He must have clung to hope for rescue until the very moment he died.

Yet my father ignored that hope.

I always ask myself, if I had been the first to find that bill, could I have saved him? Or would I have overlooked the writing, just like my father?

This thought haunts me like a ghost, tormenting my mind more and more as I grow older.

Until that day.

A new “bill” appeared before me.

…

My sister went to Yunnan to teach as a volunteer, but shortly after, she vanished.

All she left behind was a bizarre post on her social media feed:

“Black dogs grow white scales, the Flesh Well blinks with a thousand eyes, and humanity cannot escape Ailao Mountain!”

After failing to reach her privately, I turned to the police for help, but they refused to open a case.

Left with no other choice, I had to travel to Yunnan alone.

At that time, I had no idea that the terrifying truth buried deep beneath the surface had already begun to emerge…

I met a girl at a bar while I was away on business and ended up sleeping with her.

I thought it was just a one-night stand.

Little did I know, it was the beginning of a nightmare.

Introduction: Ning Qiuyan participated in a Volunteer Medical Program, serving as a Humanoid Blood Bag for a certain powerful figure suffering from a blood disorder.

Guan Heng, the legendary mysterious tycoon, lives a reclusive and extremely low-profile life. When a photo of him was leaked, he quietly became popular online for his long hair and striking, androgynous beauty.

Ning Qiuyan discovered:

Guan Heng never appears in daylight; his house always has the curtains drawn, and they only meet at night.

Guan Heng has pale skin, a cold and eccentric personality, and every time Ning Qiuyan is asked to donate blood, he must first fast and bathe.

That house is cold and dark, with no sunlight.

Guan Heng’s heartbeat is slow, and his body temperature is icy.

The first time Ning Qiuyan fell asleep during the blood donation, he woke up to find a bite mark on the side of his neck.

And he, inexplicably, found himself wanting to submit to Guan Heng.

Should you take the initiative to add a stranger’s number that you saw in a dream?

Absolutely not!

Because you’ll never be able to guess what might be on the other end!

A year ago, on a whim, I told my wife a story.

Because the content was bizarre and the details were too realistic, she was scared out of her wits.

Afterwards, I deeply regretted it and emphasized countless times that the story was made up. But her trust in me had already collapsed, and the look in her eyes was filled with fear.

That night, she ran into the bathroom, locked the door, and called the police.

As a result, I ended up in jail.

Now, I am sorting out the whole incident as follows.

The Prince was searching the entire city for the girl who had lost a Crystal Slipper.

My Stepsister stole my shoe, falsely claiming that she was the one who had danced with the Prince the night before.

Little did she know, the Prince had committed a murder that night.

And I was the only eyewitness.