Yang Xi handed the painting to the instructor Zhang Jiaming indifferently. Zhang Jiaming held the painting, his face suddenly changed. In the painting is a woman wrapped in straw, with blood flowing from the corner of the woman’s mouth, which has dried into a slightly black mark. A few straws were squeezed into the woman’s neck, and the woman’s eyes looked at the sky dumbfounded, and she had been dead for a long time. The whole composition is terrifying and terrifying. Zhang Jiaming’s hands were a little trembling.

“How do you draw such a picture?” he asked Yang Xi.

Yang Xi shook his head and said he didn’t know. Zhang Jiaming looked at the weird girl in front of him and sighed helplessly. Although Yang Xi’s paintings are horrible, her style is calm and restrained, and the lines are delicate and soft, showing her extraordinary talents in painting.

“Don’t you know the woman in your painting?” Zhang Jiaming asked suspiciously.

Yang Xi nodded. Zhang Jiaming waved to her and said that the paintings should be put away by themselves. Such paintings should not be hung in the girls’ dormitory. Yang Xi lowered his head and walked out of the studio. Zhang Jiaming’s eyes were puzzled and shocked. He had been guiding Yang Xi for two years. She behaved strangely, gloomy and silent, and had always been alone. Had she been stimulated in some way?

Back to the residence, Yang Xi lay down on the bed and looked at the paintings hanging in her house in turn. Two stone houses, a lawn, two peach trees, a stream, and a barn, this is more like a whole country picture. However, the stone house was made of bluestone, showing darkness, only the green thatch on the roof showed vitality, and the lawn was bald, and the middle seemed to be shaved away from the flowers and never planted back. Two peach trees are blooming, but Yang Xi painted blood red, which makes people feel inexplicably nervous. Yang Xi stared at the painting blankly, thinking that the person in the painting today is the only person she has painted in the past two years. Why would she draw a dead person? Yang Xi closed her eyes. Suddenly, there was a faint pain in her chest, and then she heard a strange voice: throw it away, throw it away. The voice was hoarse, and it seemed to be the voice of an old man.

Yang Xi turned over and took the pillow to cover her ears. After a while, the voice disappeared, but Yang Xi broke out in a cold sweat.

Someone knocked on the door, and Yang Xi went over to open the door. It was Zhang Jiaming. Seeing Yang Xi’s face pale, he hurriedly asked her what’s wrong? Yang Xi shook his head and said nothing.

Zhang Jiaming looked around the painting in the room, and Yang Xi quickly pulled up the curtain to cover it. She didn’t want the teacher to see these, these unidentified paintings, like the unidentified female corpse, would make people panic inexplicably. But Zhang Jiaming had already seen it. He looked straight at Yang Xi and said, “Have you been to Maoxi Village?”
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Yang Xi shook his head. She had never heard of Maoxi Village.

“Tomorrow is a rest day. I want to take you to Maoxi Village to sketch from life. Remember, you are my most valued student. Don’t live up to my expectations.” Zhang Jiaming said.

Yang Xi nodded blankly. The teacher said she was brilliant, but she didn’t think so. After an accident five years ago, her character became more and more withdrawn, and she locked herself in the house to paint every day. The parents had no choice but to spend money to send her to the art school to study. Unexpectedly, she found her own world here, and her painting skills improved by leaps and bounds.

The next day, the teachers and students came to Maoxi Village, a hundred miles away, with simple luggage and painting equipment. This is a mountain village with rugged mountain roads and very closed. When Yang Xi heard that the mountain in front was called Tuofengling, his face changed slightly. Opposite the mountain is grandma’s house. She had been to the Bajiao Village at the foot of Tuofeng Ridge, where her grandmother lived all her life.

Yang Xi was placed in an empty house that had been unoccupied for a long time, but the facilities were all available. Zhang Jiaming lives next door to her. After placing his luggage, Yang Xi wanted to walk around the village. People living in the mountains were scattered, walking and stopping, Yang Xi saw a stream of water in the distance, and walked in that direction.

After walking out for about two or three miles, I finally reached a stone house. Yang Xi stopped in surprise and was stunned. This stone house is clearly the stone house in my painting. There is a potted lawn in front of the stone house, and a narrow barn is across the small lawn. A stream bypassed the stone house. Into the small river not far away.

After a long time, Yang Xi raised her head. The roof of the stone house was covered with green thatch. She counted the windows, three windows, four windows each. Yang Xi’s heart was beating violently, and even the details were no different from her paintings. How is this going? It was the first time she came to Maoxi Village.
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The stone house was hung with a big lock, Yang Xi looked in from the crack of the door, and couldn’t see anything.

“Who are you looking for?” (Uncle Ghost: http://www.guidaye.com/ please keep it!)

Yang Xiyi He shivered, turned his head and saw a man in the mountain looking at her. Yang Xi froze for a moment, and asked if this was his house? The man nodded and said that his name was Zhu Ding, and he had only returned from a part-time job the other day. Looking at the man in front of him, Yang Xi suddenly felt that he was a bit familiar. It seems to have seen it somewhere.

Yang Xi was full of doubts, and walked slowly along the stream to the river. She squatted by the river, gently lifting the water with her hand. Suddenly, she felt dizzy in front of her eyes and instinctively wanted to stand up, but she slipped under her feet and tilted her body and fell into the river. Yang Xi was frightened and frightened, desperately “flapping” in the water, shouting for help. Hearing Yang Xi’s cry for help, Zhu Ding hurried to the riverside and threw himself away. Yang Xi was rescued, his face turned blue, and his body was shaking with cold.

“Come to my house, let’s grill the fire.” Zhu Ding said.

Yang Xi instinctively wanted to refuse, but he raised his head to see the man’s eyes and almost nodded. The two stone houses were very clean. YangSeeing a picture of a woman hanging in the room, Xi shivered involuntarily. That woman is clearly the woman in his painting. Yang Xi pointed to the woman and asked who it was? The man did not look up, saying that it was his wife, who had been missing for a long time.

Zhu Ding found out two of his wife’s clothes and gave them to Yang Xi. At this moment, suddenly a stone was thrown over, smashing the window glass. Zhu Ding chased out the door, and the stone-thrower ran away early. Zhu Ding didn’t say a word, turned around and went into the warehouse to find a board, and nailed the window with it.

Back in the floral clothes of a woman in the mountains, Zhang Jiaming looked at Yang Xi in surprise. Yang Xi hurried into the house and changed her clothes. Sitting in front of the bed, she suddenly thought that she must have been led here by something. Everything in her toilet is presented here, then, what about the dead woman? Is she really missing? Why did I draw a horrible scene of death wrapped in straw?

Zhang Jiaming came over and asked what happened to Yang Xi? Yang Xi said he saw the stone house he painted. Lawn, hut. Zhang Jiaming shook his head and asked Zhu Ding’s house in the west of the village? Yang Xi was surprised. Zhang Jiaming said that Zhu Ding’s wife disappeared five years ago, and the villagers suspect that Zhu Ding killed her. Because the body was never found, he was released after being held for several years.

Yang Xi felt cold all over and lay on the bed covered with a quilt. Imagining the woman in the photo, the woman in the oil painting, Yang Xi’s heart beats more and more anxiously. After a while, she turned over and got out of bed and walked towards the west of the village again.

Zhu Ding is not at home, Yang Xi gently pushes open the warehouse. It was just a firewood shed with some rusty farm tools and piles of straw. Yang Xi squatted down and stroked the straws. Isn’t these straws the straws in her painting?

“Throw it away, throw it away, throw it away quickly.”

The hoarse voice rang again, and Yang Xi desperately covered it ear.