I have experienced ninety-nine deaths.
Each time, he ended up being run over by a rust-red heavy truck.
Calling the police, escaping, locking the door of my house, actively destroying it, all methods will fail. Reality will create countless absurd coincidences and drag me to death.
I always thought fate was playing tricks on me.
On the hundredth round, I ventured into the logistics warehouse where the truck belonged, cracked the encrypted document, and found the cold, cold cycle execution records in front of me.
The project leader line is the name of an acquaintance of mine.
She walked towards me at the gate of the middle school at night, her smile as clean as ever.
But the blood all over my body was completely frozen.
Intention: The shackles of fate come from the person you trust most, and desperate struggle is nothing but the observation of others.