Chapter 161

Zhu Zangmo's face was embedded in the iron mesh, as if it was about to be cut into small diamond-shaped pieces.

He looked through the two grids at the person painting on the hill and recognized him.

He said in shock: "That's... me!"

He was confused: "That's me... Then, who am I? What's going on..."

"This is a dream, Principal Zhu... Zila." A wooden hand pressed firmly on the back of his neck, and the pager answered him.

Zhu Zang suddenly realized: "Dream... Yes, this is a dream! No wonder it's so strange, I must be having a nightmare again! I just need to wake up, as long as I wake up, I can leave this damn place... How can I wake up?"

The wooden hand released him, and his legs weakened and he slid to the ground.

"Student Lu" raised his arm and pointed to the crayon drawing on the wall.

The voice from the pager matched its actions: "You have to do this to leave here... Zila..."

Zhu Zangmo stared at himself hanging in the mural, his eyes filled with chaos and madness. He gritted his teeth and said, "After all, dying in a dream isn't real death. As long as I can wake up!"

"Student Lu" raised his other wooden hand towards him. There was a restraint belt hanging on his finger, and it was unknown when it was untied from the head of the bed.

The pager said, "You have to be like me. You know it."

"I know, of course I know," Zhu Zangmo said as he took the restraints with trembling hands. "I know every detail of your suicide for the sake of your creation..."

The puppet tilted its head: "Come on, Principal Zhu... sizzle..."

Zhu Zangmo stood up, passed one end of the restraint belt through the hole in the window protective net, fastened the buckle to form a rope loop.

Then, he faced the window and stuck his head in.

But his feet were still on the ground.

He was a little anxious: "Student Lu, this is not high enough!"

The voice on the pager answered him: "As long as you are determined to die, it doesn't matter if it's not high enough. Didn't I do it? You are such a loser. Let me help you..."

The wooden leg stretched out and swept.

Zhu Zangmo's two feet were swept backwards, his knees bent, and the weight of his whole body fell, and the rope ring suddenly tightened around his neck!

His larynx caved in and he began to struggle desperately. The suffocating feeling and severe pain clearly made him regret it instantly.

He tried to stand up, but his legs, which were stretched behind him, were too weak to do so and they scraped the ground with a loud creaking sound. Every time he found a foothold, the puppet would trip him up again.

The wooden hands made dry clapping sounds, as if they were playing an interesting game.

A cheer rang out from the pager: "Publicly executing the ugliest thing in the world is called... retribution!"

In desperation, Zhu Zangmo tried to grab onto the windowsill for support, but due to lack of oxygen, his arms were too heavy to lift to the height of the windowsill.

I could only lift it slightly and scratched desperately at the wall.

Nails were broken and fingers were rubbed raw from scratching. The wall in front of him was smeared with scraped flesh.

He could have died faster, but his struggle delayed the process.

When he finally stopped moving, he was hanging on the window in a kneeling position, with his two hanging hands without nails and the fingertips worn to the bone.

His head drooped to one side, his face wedged on the wire mesh, his bloodshot eyes staring straight at "himself" on the distant hill outside the window.

That "self" was also looking over here, with an appreciative smile, his teeth as white as the waning moon in the sky.

In the next frame, as if the universe is rotating, the camera turns to the perspective of "Zhu Zangmo" on the hill.

On the easel is a microcosm of the world ahead:

The lonely hospital building stood in the vast night of the suburbs. A crescent moon moved above the building at some point, like a small boat moored on the roof.

There was a half-figure lying in a window of the building, and it was unclear whether it was standing or hanging there.

The human figure fell on the painting, just a blur of gray.

In the next frame, all people, scenes and objects melted like ink and flowed down the frame.

It turned into a pool of dark water, filling the entire screen.

"Wow..." A head emerged from the water.

It was Zhu Zangmo's head. Thick water stains covered his head and face, his eyes were still bloodshot, and there were deep marks on his neck.

He choked and coughed, gasping for breath: "This nightmare... finally... woke up..."

His cloudy eyeballs rolled around and he was stunned.

"Why isn't this my home? What is this place?"

This is a simple bathroom with a mosaic-like tile floor.

He was sitting in a bathtub, the dark water up to his chest, and the rim of the tub was marked with dark fingerprints.

He lifted one hand out of the water, looked at the water dripping between his badly worn fingers, and muttered to himself in a daze, "Could this be... a vat of blood?"

He panicked and tried to climb out of the tub.

“Tatta…”

A familiar voice came.

He held onto the edge of the bathtub and slowly raised his head, seeing a stiffly standing figure printed on a floral shower curtain not far away.

He was so scared that he fell back into the bathtub, and blood sloshed out.

A gust of wind blew from somewhere, and the shower curtain was lifted, revealing a "person" wearing a nightgown behind.

It was another puppet with cute twin ponytails and a name tag that read: Zheng XX.

"It's Mr. Zheng. So we've reached the next stage of the nightmare?"

The fear in Zhu Zangmo's eyes gradually turned into numbness. His mind seemed to be slipping away quietly.

He stretched his unusually long neck and asked, "Mr. Zheng, how can I get out of here?"

The puppet clattered forward, its arm reaching out with a creaking sound, a bloody utility knife clutched between its wooden fingers.

Zhu Zangmo showed a look of sudden realization: "You committed suicide by slitting your wrists. I have to do the same to leave. Is this the rule of nightmares?"

There was no pager in the bathroom, and "Student Zheng" did not answer.

Just point the blade of the utility knife at him and put it right in front of his nose.

It was as if if he didn't answer, she would stab his face.