114 Sacrifice Corridor 28 || Even if the illusion is only filled with pain, there is someone who will always wait for me
Reason and emotions are pulling at each other wildly. I really want to see them, even just for a moment.
She seemed to sigh softly at the door, then followed her father in front of her, "Come on, wait for me."
Soon, the sound of the door closing was heard, and the footsteps of two people coming down the stairs were heard from inside the house.
Was it over? Was the illusion over? They were gone? Leaving him like this again?
For the first time, he didn't even want the illusion to end so quickly. Even if he couldn't see it, it was good to hear the voices. He missed these nagging words too much. Those were the days he dreamed of returning to. Death always precedes farewell, and those who remain behind always suddenly stir up a storm one day before they realize it.
The illusion did not end and the light did not change at all.
Yan Shuang quickly got up from the bed and looked out the window, wanting to secretly take a look at her parents' backs.
Like a greedy child, he is never satisfied.
Sure enough, not long after, my parents appeared at the bottom of the building. My mother, wearing her favorite skirt, took my father's arm and walked towards the crowd.
He couldn't hold back his tears any longer, and he covered his eyes with his hands, breathing heavily from under his palms.
Is the game well-intentioned? No, of course not.
The parents downstairs got into their family car, and in an instant, the scene began to change rapidly, turning into a busy street.
Yan Shuang's heart beat faster and faster, her back felt cold, her hands were clenched tightly, her nails dug deep into her palms, but she didn't feel any pain.
Still here.
Every frame of the view from the window became extremely clear, and Yan Shuang could even see the two long-awaited faces in the car.
Everything seemed to be on mute.
A red car suddenly appeared on the opposite side and suddenly collided with the black car that had been driving normally on the road. The two cars were twisted into a knot, the hoods severely deformed and emitting gray-white smoke, the windshields exploded into shattered pieces, and finally a mess was left on the ground.
Inside the car, the airbag deployed. My father's forehead was bleeding, his eyes dazed but straining to remain clear, his lips trembling as if he were about to say something. My mother's fingers were trembling violently as she pried at the deformed center console, trying to free her trapped lower body.
His parents are still conscious and not dead yet!
The crowd watching the excitement on the road gathered around, but no one took another step forward, maintaining a tacit distance.
This was the first time he saw the entire process of the car accident with his own eyes. It was much clearer and more complete than the later online videos.
Yan Shuang was breathing rapidly, his vision was blacking out, and all the blood in his body was squeezed to the extremities, so that his hands and feet were numb and he couldn't breathe.
It was fake, all of this was fake. In reality, his parents had long since passed away, and even if he escaped, there was no way they could survive. But the longing he had felt for them over the years was no longer a stream that could be easily cut off. It flowed deep in his heart day and night, eventually converging into a silent sea of suffering.
This illusion is so cruel and yet so compassionate.
She used the sharpest knife to peel back the calloused scars over and over again, while handing him a fake painkiller.
The illusion didn't give him a chance to recover, and the scene went back to the moment before the car crashed... and repeated itself.
In this way, the two cars collided again and again...
The psychological repression plus the visual impact have pushed endurance to its limit.
Why torture like this! This memory once made him feel so painful that he wanted to die. Accidental death is more difficult to accept than death from old age or illness. Why are these people so indifferent! If only someone stepped forward to lend a hand, the two of them could have survived.
He smashed the glass hard, venting his anger, and his sobs, which he tried hard to suppress, were choked with sobs.
Then he suddenly raised his head, tears and rage intertwined in his scarlet eyes, his eye sockets could not bear the surging emotions and were slightly red and swollen.
He walked quickly towards the door, and the moment his hand touched the handle, a biting chill ran up through his fingertips, making him shiver violently.
Yan Shuang lowered her head, and her wrist, hidden under her sleeve, was exposed when she raised her hand, with a line drawn on it with a black pen.
Instead of opening the door, he stopped and gradually regained his senses.
This was the method he came up with during the day. At that time, Yan Shuang felt that the thing that could make him sober up at a glance must be related to Jing Ning, so he found a pen and asked him to write something on his hand.
Jing Ning pulled Yan Shuang's wrist and placed his fingertips warmly on his pulse.
Yan Shuang thought he would write a word or a sentence, but Jing Ning didn't.
He just drew a zigzag line above the beating pulse steadily and attentively, "This is the first time I've encountered your heartbeat."
Then, under Yan Shuang's surprised gaze, Jing Ning rolled up his sleeves and drew another line exactly in the same place.
"That's enough." Jing Ning raised his head, his eyes clear and firm. "No matter where you go or what dangerous things you do, just raise your wrist and see this line."
He paused, his voice becoming unusually gentle, yet carrying a weight of profound significance, "Always remember, somewhere else in the world, there is someone bearing the same mark, waiting for your return."
The light of dawn shone into the room and the sounds outside returned to normal.
Yan Shuang squatted tiredly in front of the door, buried her head deeply in her arms, motionless, exhausted all over.
Jing Ning woke up, picked him up, and stroked his fur gently like a puppy, "Yan Shuang?"
Yan Shuang raised her head and tried to force a smile, her voice hoarse, "I woke up so early today."
Jing Ning looked at his red and swollen eyes without saying a word. He rested his head on his chest to soothe his tense nerves.
Yan Shuang closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. Every beat carried a weight that could not be ignored, making her feel so fascinating and reassuring.
Suddenly, he laughed out loud, "I want to get a tattoo."
"good."
"You'll have to redraw it for me when the time comes." Yan Shuang touched the pattern on his wrist, "I scratched it last night."
"Okay." Jing Ning didn't ask him what he saw last night, but just hugged him tightly, as long as he was okay.
After a while, Yan Shuang sat up and said seriously, "That talisman didn't work."
Jing Ning took out the talisman, opened it and looked at it carefully with Yan Shuang. Both the drawing method and the content on it were correct. He couldn't believe that he would make such a low-level mistake. Why did the illusion still appear?
Yan Shuang also believed in her memory. The talisman was exactly the same as the one in Wu Yaqi's hand in terms of both painting style and texture.
In this case, it can also indirectly explain that the talisman in Wu Yaqi's hand is actually ineffective, and her suspicion still exists.
The real talisman doesn’t work as it should. What’s the problem?
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