Soon, I completely forgot about this matter.

I had my own things to do, such as doing live streaming in my rental house.

The house I rented was in a very good location, in the city center, less than a thousand meters from the busiest commercial area in the city.

Generally speaking, a whole set of house in this location would cost at least 8000 yuan per month.

But I only spent 600 yuan to rent this self-built two-story house with five rooms.

When I paid one year's rent at once, the landlord was overjoyed.

He took the money and ran away, afraid that I would regret it.

Because this was a house of a nail householder, surrounded by a large wasteland.

Not only was it near the bustling commercial area, it was at least a thousand meters away from any building with people.

This house had no water, no electricity, no gas, and was leaking from all sides. The floor was littered with bricks and tiles, and stepping out the door, you would be in the wild grass.

But I rented it, not for its cheapness, but for the traffic.

During my live stream, I claimed that this house was mine.

And living in a barren land in the city center of a city with a population of nine million as a nail householder for ten years, what kind of feeling is that?

Everyone was interested in that.

Who knew the real landlord had been a nail householder for years.

Anyway, I rounded it up to ten years.

Speaking of making money, this was much more profitable than writing about Liu Shaobing.

And to cope with fans who might come to check, I really lived here.

About two months after encountering Wang Bo, around eight or nine in the evening, I had some drinks with friends and came back to the rental haouse half-drunk.

I've always been someone who values the sense of ritual in life.

So, although the inside of the house was more desolate than the outside, I still locked the door.

As soon as I took out my key, my phone indicated a new message.

I looked at my phone and saw it was a new fan leaving a message under my account.

I took a glance at the message and habitually deleted the private messages.

Just as I was about to reply, I suddenly felt something poking against my waist.

It was really uncomfortable, so I arched my back a bit.

It actually hurt a bit.

Just as I was about to turn my head, a hoarse voice sounded behind me:

"If you want to live, don't move."

What?

Pretending to be a nail householder is this dangerous?

Drunk courage took over.

So, I took the time to explain: "You know, stabbing in this position won't kill me immediately, nor will it make me lose my mobility."

"I might die from excessive blood loss in a few hours."

As I spoke, I turned my head, wanting to see who was behind me.

This was most likely a black fan, using a key or something to prank me.

But is this how you make a joke?

Just as I moved my head, my waist hurt badly.

It was August, and I was lightly dressed.

So the knife pierced my skin immediately and I could feel the blood flowing out.

This guy was serious, he really had a knife.

I sobered up instantly.

Even if I wouldn't die immediately, it still hurt.

But I still didn't listen, I moved again.

I raised both hands high and said, "Don't kill me, let's talk this out."

The knife at my waist poked again, and I hurt again.

At that moment, my thoughts were very strange.

I thought, damn, I should have drunk more during dinner and let my friend pay the bill.

I'm bleeding too much for this.

Actually, I knew the wound wasn't deep, just a skin cut.

"Do what I say, move slowly, open the door, enter the house, turn on the light. If you listen, you won't die."

The voice said from behind me.

Of course, there were no streetlights outside this shabby house, but with the moonlight, everything was visible.

I obediently put down my hands. At 0.5 times speed, I opened the door, entered the house, and turned on the light.

There was no water or electricity here, that was an outdoor light powered by a battery, which I occasionally used at night during live streams.

The knife at my waist followed me closely, unusually stable.

The voice spoke again:

"Put both hands behind your back, slowly."

I obediently put my hands behind my back, and the person took my phone.

Then I felt something being put on my hands and then tightened.

Who goes out carrying such things?

The guy behind me was a pro, clearly well-prepared.

"Don't move." The person behind me breathed a sigh of relief, walked around from behind me, and put a chair behind me, saying, "Sit down."

I obediently sat down and finally saw my captor.

He was wearing a mask, so I couldn't see his face, he wasn't tall, was calm, and moved swiftly.

No signs of a nervous or excited novice criminal.

He took out another rope and tied my feet. This time I saw it clearly, it was a plastic zip tie, the kind that tightens but is hard to loosen.

In some ways, harder to break than handcuffs.

There was no way I could hope to break it myself.

After tying me up, he pointed the light in my direction, but fortunately, it didn't shine directly on my face.

After finishing, he used my face to unlock my phone.

He didn't gag me.

But it didn't matter whether I was gagged or not.

Shouting wouldn't help; even if Mr. Scream existed, he lived at least a thousand meters away.

Then, he pulled a chair from three meters away and sat behind the light.

This was absolutely like a torture scene from a movie.

A voice came from the darkness: "Don't shout, don't resist, don't do anything, and you will live."

I licked my lips and sincerely nodded.

I heard the creaking of the rickety chair in the dark.

He leaned back in the chair.

"I'm just staying over for one night, I'll let you go before I leave." He added.

I licked my lips, sincerely, and nodded.

He asked, "Are you very thirsty?"

I nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed: "Yes, I just had some drinks. Could you get me a bottle of water, it's in the corner."

He stood up, walked to the corner to get water.

I obediently reminded him: "Be careful underfoot, the ground is full of stones."

He grunted in acknowledgment.

I didn't really want to drink water.

But I had to find a way to talk to him more.

From the perspective of stranger crime psychology, the more interaction there is between them, the less likely they are to be killed.

Because the interaction will make the criminal realize the other person is like him.

Except for real psychopaths, nobody really likes killing.

I couldn't miss any chance to stay alive.

In the dimly lit room, it took some time for him to find the water. Considerately, he also opened the bottle cap for me and fed me half a bottle of water.

Then he went back to sit behind the light.

This guy was a considerate villain.

Who knows, maybe we could become sworn brothers before he leaves tomorrow morning?

My mind began to wander.

Then I heard a voice from the opposite side, with anger for the first time:

He said: "Damn it, it locked the screen again."

I was a bit confused: "What?"

"The screen lock password."

The voice behind the light said impatiently, then the person leaned forward.

Then, his face slowly emerged from the darkness.

I didn't know when, but he had taken off his mask.

"What the hell are you daydreaming about, what's the lock screen password on your phone?"

He said impatiently.

I really didn't want to tell my phone password, which was also my Alipay password.

But I swear, I wasn't daydreaming because of this.

It was because of the face emerging from behind the light.

That was a face I had seen many times in my dreams.

It was Liu Shaobing's face.