When someone with depression enters the horror game

Shen Lian was still sitting in the empty palace with disheveled hair, planing wood chips with a plane.

He did it very seriously, and accidentally scratched his finger.

The board gradually smoothed out.

Then he discovered a big problem.

The Painted Skin Ghost only told him his name, not even the dates of his birth and death.

After thinking about it, he just wrote the words "The position of Zhang's Wanniang" from top to bottom.

Then write the worshiper in the lower right corner—that is, his name.

The format is appalling.

He looked at the simple tablet and tilted his head.

"Too rough," he thought, "should be improved."

So he scrambled through a bunch of things he couldn't use and probably didn't need.

Looking at the dug out ink fountain, butterfly chisel, and a pile of carving knives with flat and round blades, he rested his thoughts on improvement.

Originally, I wanted to die and ask the doctor to set up a monument to heroes, but why didn't I die, and somehow set up a tablet for the dead?

What does the doctor do in the teahouse?

Painted Skin Ghost leaned on Wang's lap, and Wang stroked her loose black hair.

She is as well-behaved as a cat, pitiful everywhere.

Wang sighed happily.

But she thought of the little husband with messy hair.

The little Xianggong took off his clothes, put her hand over his heart, and lay down on the ground.

The little man smiled happily.

Then he covered his face like a child.

She could feel the beating heart under her hands.

There is a layer of flesh and blood, a beating heart that belongs to a living person, separated by a pair of skins.

It was so warm, just like the winter before she died, it was snowing heavily outside, and she was sitting by the fire.

She sat down on Wang's knee and thanked the man who helped her softly.

Wang looked a little embarrassed.

The thanks of the beloved girl are always different from others.

The girl laughed.

"Do you like me?" she asked curiously.

"Of course." Wang nodded.

"How much do you like it?" She played with the king's crown playfully.

Wang Chong smiled indulgently: "I will exchange the whole country for you."

She smiled happily: "Is Jiangshan so worthless? I don't care about it."

"Then what do you want?"

She tore off the king's fine clothes, and put a jade-like hand on the king's chest.

"I want your heart, but I can only give it to me."

Wang smiled and agreed. In his opinion, this was a serious and beautiful promise.

The next moment, the sharp nails pierced the flesh.

Painted Skinny holds a bleeding heart in his hand.A warm, still beating heart.

The little man aroused her bloodthirsty desire.

Wang still had a smile on his face.

The status crown fell to the ground.

This thing can outlive the person who wears it.

"Dick - the random mission is completed."

"Di—the system generates the program again, and the second random task starts. If the task is not completed, the system will determine that the player is dead."

"Di—the second copy of the random mission, the hidden mountain village—"

"Di——There should be three players, but there are actually two players—"

"Di—random task [-], the system has not yet generated—"

At that moment, Shen Lian, who was holding the tablet, was stunned.

Even though the time was so short that it could be counted in seconds, his thoughts turned several times.

He was clearly waiting to die, but who killed Wang and let him complete the task indirectly?

One more thing... who, dead?