When someone with depression enters the horror game

On the second day of becoming a witch, Shen Lian, a man gifted by God, adhered to the principle of seeking a job in his position, and tried his best not to eat a vegetarian meal, but to help the villagers drive away ghosts with a mahogany sword.

He took out a piece of white paper from his big sleeve and threw it into the basin, clasped his hands together, and muttered words, as if reciting a divine scripture silently.

On the clean white paper, a ferocious woman with disheveled hair and teeth and claws soon appeared.

The villagers were terrified when they saw the ghost that appeared out of thin air, but Shen Lian was not surprised. He seemed to know the trivial thing of painting with alum and then immersing it in water.

It's just that he didn't even notice that the woman he drew looked so much like the angel who was as beautiful as a fairy.He also didn't notice how much insidious malice he poured into the pen when he drew this woman.

The firewood under the iron pot was burning vigorously, occasionally one or two sparks splashed out, and the oil in the pot was boiling and bubbling, making crackling noises.

Shen Lian picked up the white paper that imprisoned the ghost, and directly dipped his hand into the hot oil pan.

The other self in his soul seemed to be laughing at him, laughing at him for doing such a dirty and low-level thing.

Shen Lian looked at the villagers who gasped, their eyes widened, and they knelt on the ground hastily.

Is it low level?Shen Lian was puzzled.

Maybe it's really low-level, after all, he poured a layer of oil into a pot of vinegar without even thinking about it before.I didn't even have time to think about it, so I was very sure that the vinegar would sink under the oil.

When the vinegar is boiled, the bubbles will rise and rise to the surface of the oil, which looks like the oil is boiling.

It's not hot at all when you put your hands in it.

Maybe everyone knows how to "fry ghosts", but these villagers don't know, they are kneeling on the ground and sincerely kowtow, thanking Shen Lian for his outstanding contribution.

Shen Lian bent down to help them up, showing an extremely friendly smile.

Perhaps the status can be consolidated in such a way that people in this village can easily know "respect" and "fear".

After finishing the messy sacrifices and rituals, Shen Lian felt free. He ran to a family named Zheng and asked the villagers an inexplicable question.

"Old man, do you know a girl named Zheng Qing?"

The old man squinted his eyes with a cigarette in his mouth, and said with great certainty: "There are so many people surnamed Zheng in the village, and none of them is named 'Qing'. There are too many Zheng dogs, Zheng sons, and Zheng Erya."

Shen Lian didn't believe in evil: "Is that a nickname? What about the scientific name?"

The old man shook his head, expressing that he was not clear either.

So Shen Lian knocked on doors from door to door, trying to find a girl named Zheng Qing.

Of course, the ending was to return without success, and everyone in the village suspected that even if Zhao Jiasanlang changed his name, the disease in his mind would still not be cured clearly.

Nobody called that name, not even a dead person.

When he got home, he asked the goddess, "Mother-in-law, do you know a man named Zheng Qing?"

The sorceress shook her head and asked curiously, "Why are you asking this?"

Shen Lian didn't know what she was doing either.

After all, I just heard a name that I didn't know.

He recalled that sentence.

"Little Xianggong...Little Xianggong, why don't you eat! Zheng Qing is dead, and you still want to die for him!"

That should be a... pretty important person.

Seeing him in a daze, the sorceress suggested: "Now that the sun has set, you can go to the patriarch tomorrow and look up the previous genealogy."

Shen Lian thanked her for her suggestion, put a stick of incense on the god, prepared to sleep, and looked forward to tomorrow's arrival.

It's a pity that the days are short and the nights are long, and I toss and turn all night, and I can't go out at night with a candle, so I think wildly, wondering how I could die for others with such a selfish temperament.

Even if the love is deep in the bones, it is impossible to do such a stupid thing as dying for love.

He waited until dawn full of doubts and came to the patriarch's house.

The patriarch is very old, his beard and hair are white, and his whole face looks like dried orange peel.He was even so old that he couldn't even participate in the ceremony of offering sacrifices to heaven, as if he could die at any time.

Shen Lian flipped through the thick genealogy page by page, looking at the names one by one, and asked: "My lord, why is our family tree only 200 years old at most?"

The patriarch looked far away, as if following the yellowed genealogy back to the distant past: "This village was built by everyone to avoid the war, and the previous genealogy has long been lost."

"What a pity." Shen Lian said.

The "pity" he thought was something else.

Still haven't found the name "Zheng Qing", whether it's a living person or a dead person.

Although he has forgotten the past, but the things in his bones can't be lost... He is a death star who doesn't complain.

The name "Zheng Qing" is extremely popular, and it is not as unique as "Shen Lian". There is no one with the same name in this village?Weizai Weizai.

He walked back with some disappointment, picked up the pen and paper, and felt that the suppressed emotions came like a tide, but found that the ancients were sincere and could not draw because of the sadness.

He had no choice but to search his guts, trying to find the shadow of Zheng Qing in his memory.

But I don't want to follow my heart with the brush, and outline a flower with each stroke.

The flower was as red as blood.

Bright, beautiful, layer upon layer, extremely gorgeous.

He froze for a while, staring at the flower, a little incredulous.

The girl's voice seemed to be heard again in my ears: "Oh, it's terrible, the little husband is thinking about spring? Which girl is it?"

It was a peony.

After drawing the peony, Shen Lian never asked the people in the village who Zheng Qing was.

He only remembered that his ears were hot at that time, and he hurriedly pressed a pile of books on the painting, and then he also felt that there was no silver 300 taels here.

How is it possible, he doesn't even know that girl named Zheng Qing!

"I like daffodils," he thought. "I remember a guy looking at himself in the water and turning into a daffodil."

This is the tone he likes, only loves himself, loves to the extreme.

It is full of ironic romance that seems to be praised and criticized.

The girl seemed to be intrigued, and would pop up every time Shen Lian wasn't paying attention, teasing the dewy peony.

"Xiao Xianggong, which beautiful lady do you have your eyes on?"

"Little Master, don't keep talking..."

"Little Master, don't ignore me..."

Shen Lian was anxious to be asked, so she stared into the girl's eyes affectionately, and said nonsense that the person in front of her was her sweetheart.

The girl covered her face with her hands in a shy manner, with a look of affection between her brows, and ran away humbly.

They are like a couple of real dogs and men.

At this time, Shen Lian could be considered free and truly purified.

"Victors and women, Yi Qi flirted with each other, and gave them peony."

There is a saying in Mao's poems, young and young girls talk and smile, and give peony to each other to express their affection.