My Death God Roommate

The torrential rain showed no sign of stopping. Sang Tong and Zeng Tianhan went out under the heavy rain, and did not come back alone until it was dark.

In the evening, Guanerzhou issued an orange warning of heavy rain and all schools in the city were closed.

Mu Rongxian was a little sluggish when eating dinner, but Sang Yu tried to persuade and coaxed, she barely ate a bowl of rice.

Sang Yu helped Mu Rong dry his hair, and went to wash himself. When he came out, Mu Rong fell asleep leaning on the bed.

Sang Yu called twice, but Mu Rong did not wake up.

She carefully embraced Mu Rong, laid the person flat on the bed, pulled the quilt over her body, and changed the air conditioner to sleep mode.

Sang Yu sat on the edge of the bed and straightened out the broken hair on her forehead for Mu Rong. She was uncomfortable sleeping and frowned from time to time.

Sang Yu's gaze stopped on Mu Rong's plastered arm. The harsh whistling sound lingered in her ears from time to time that day, and even broke into her dreams. Whenever she woke up with a cold sweat on her head, she looked at it first. It was the person in front of her who made her feel at ease.

For several nights, with Mu Rong by his side, Sang Yu was no longer afraid.

The rain has been falling, washing down the floor-to-ceiling windows of the room, and the rain splashed across the glass, distorting the neon gleaming outside.

The room was quiet, Sang Yu smoothed Murong's frowning eyebrows, and ran his fingers across the brow peak.

"Good night, Murong."

...

Mu Rong had a dream.

In the dream, she seemed to be the protagonist, and she seemed to be overlooking everything happening in front of her from a third perspective.

The dream is very real, so real that she can even feel the humidity in the air and smell the rancid smell.

Her gaze followed the movement of a person, but no matter how hard she tried, she could only see that person's back.

A bald monk, holding a wand with eyebrows in his hand, wore a crescent-white monk robe. The robe was very old with patches everywhere.

Wear it on him, don't have a sense of style.

The monk's feet are knee-length mud, but he lightly points on the mud, and the pure white monk shoes do not stain a bit of mud.

Around him, there are ruins of houses, old trees that have been uprooted, and sometimes human corpses. Looking around, it stretches endlessly, and the end of this disaster can't be seen.

The shabby monk robe was blown up by the wind from time to time, and the monk seemed to have taken root, standing still and standing proudly, revealing a sense of unyielding and firmness.

In front of the monk, there is a black phantom that is dozens of stories high, with blood-red eyes, the size of a car!

"belch!"

The black shadow burped a full, and blew out a smelly wind, which was disgusting.

Mu Rong heard the sound of the fabric tearing--the shabby monk's robe could not be torn, and a slit opened.

"Mortal, my uncle can tear you apart by just blowing your breath, so you still want to cross me?"

"River demon, the poor monk wanted to take you to the Three Treasures, but you took advantage of my precautions and manipulated the river to divert the course. Thousands of people were ruined because of you on a whim. This monstrous killing, you..."

"Hahahaha, monk! These people died because of you. If you didn’t think that you angered this uncle, how could they die? You mortals don’t have a saying, “I don’t kill Boren, but Boren is because of me. And die? Look down, these are the murders you made, hahahahaha, now you are as sinful as this uncle, but this uncle wants to see how you can cross me and the world! ?"

Mu Rong snorted, a real pain swept through his body, the pain of cutting his skin, his heart was like a knife.

Mu Rong looked at the white-robed monk blankly: He was in pain.

The monk looked around for a week, looked at the devastation, and burst into tears.

Murong couldn't see the monk's face, her perspective could only see the monk's back, but she could feel all his emotions.

His sadness, his heartache and self-blame.

Suddenly, Mu Rong's heart jumped and shouted, "No!"

Sang Yu turned on the bedside lamp and saw that Mu Rong's face was sweaty, his expression anxious and painful, and he pushed Mu Rong: "Murong? Wake up, Mu Rong!"

He shouted several times, but couldn't wake up Mu Rong. He raised his hand and stroked Mu Rong's forehead, which was hot.

Sang Yu rushed to the bathroom and twisted a cold towel to Murong's forehead, then picked up the phone in the room and asked the front desk to call a doctor.

"Don't do this, don't do this, there are other ways, don't do this, don't!"

"Murong! Wake up, don't you scare me, Mu Rong?"

"River demon, the poor monk taught you for eight days. With eight stories, let the poor monk tell you the last story."

After the monk said, he threw the tin stick in his hand high, folded his hands together, and sat cross-legged on the mud.

"The ninth story is called:'I won't go to hell, who will go to hell." The poor monk made a great vow with his life's cultivation and life: sitting here to transform into a tower and reigning for a hundred years, there is no Amitabha."

As the voice fell, the tin rod that kept spinning in the air burst out with golden light, and the bright light pierced the river monster's eyes. It gave out an angry roar, shaking the ground and shaking the mountain.

The monk was shrouded in golden light, and the wind couldn't shake him at all. The stick turned into a beam of light and plunged straight toward the monk's heavenly spirit.

"No!" Mu Rong yelled, opened his eyes and sat up straight.

The doctor who was holding the needle and preparing to give Mu Rong an infusion fell on the ground in shock, the sweat on Mu Rong's face slipped drop by drop, and he was gasping for breath.

She saw Su Sifang and Sang Tong standing at the end of the bed, and then she was embraced by a warm body.

"Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, it's okay."

Mu Rong turned his head and saw a worried expression on his face, stroking her back to comfort her sangyu.

Seeing that Mu Rong's eyes were empty, Sang Yu asked with distress, "What did you dream of?"

Mu Rong looked at Sang Yu without blinking, and muttered blankly: "I won't go to hell, I won't go to hell...who, go to hell."

A drop of muddy tears overflowed his eyes and fell silently. Mu Rong didn't want to cry, but the tears flowed out by himself.

In a bright light, she clearly saw that the monk was crying like this when the tin rod pierced the sky spirit.

Sang Yu hugged Mu Rong and wiped the wetness from the corners of her eyes: "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid! It's just a dream, it's okay, it's okay when you wake up, I'm here, don't be afraid."

Mu Rong nodded his forehead on Sang Yu's thin shoulders, closed his eyes, smelled the familiar breath, felt the temperature of being surrounded, and let out a long sigh.

In my ears, Su Sifang's low Buddha horn sounded: "Amitabha."

Mu Rong fell asleep after receiving a quick-acting antipyretic injection and dropping another bottle of hydrating drip.

The rain outside the window is still falling, as if to wash the whole world thoroughly.

It was already six o'clock in the morning, and the sky was still grey.

Sang Tong received a call and pulled Su Sifang out of the room.

The two came downstairs wearing raincoats. Zeng Tianhan led the two demon spirits and was sitting on the sofa in the lobby waiting for them.

Sang Tong took the work permit from Zeng Tianhan and handed it to Su Sifang. The five people got into the police car together.

"what happened?"

Zeng Tianhan handed over a folder: "Ma Hongsheng is dead."

"Is that one of the boys rescued by Li Hanchu?"

"Ok."

"Is it the police from the family?"

A demon replied: "No, the flood control department called us to inform us. Isn't this an orange warning for heavy rain? The dam of that section of Yelou River is relatively low, and the flood control soldiers went there for routine patrol inspections and discovered accidentally. A corpse."

Sang Tong opened the folder, and inside it was a boy in school uniform lying in the mud on the shore.

"Why just one?"

"Ah, I greeted the public security department beforehand. They didn't destroy the scene, so they took this one."

"Didn't he die in the river?"

"Dead on the shore, in a puddle."

...

The demon spirit has sealed off the scene, but even if it is not sealed off, no one will come to the river in this weather.

Sang Tong and Su Sifang put on their work permits, pulled on the hats of the raincoats, and crossed the cordon and walked in.

Yelou River surged overnight, and the turbid river water rushed past.

The deceased Ma Hongsheng lay on the ground with his face in a puddle. Sang Tong squatted down and observed carefully: the grass around the deceased was intact.

"Please turn him over, please."

The young police officer glanced at the police chief and was a little dissatisfied with Sang Tong's order.

"What do you look at? Do whatever you ask you to do. This is the task force sent from above!"

Two police officers carried Ma Hongsheng's body out of the puddle and halfway through it. One of the young police officers yelled and shook his hands.

With a "pop", the body fell to the grass.

Sang Tong personally grasped Ma Hongsheng's shoulder and turned the person over. Seeing the face of the deceased, everyone present felt numb in their scalp and took a breath.

Slightly courageous, he can't stand still.

The deceased Ma Hongsheng had a weird smile on his face. From the overall look, Ma Hongsheng was not afraid at all before he died. It was more like seeing something that made him happy. There was joy in the brows, and there was no panic in his dilated pupils. Pain, grinning mouth, bright smile.

There was some silt left in the nostrils and corners of the deceased's mouth, and the soil was the same as in the mud pit.

The expression of smiling requires the traction of facial muscles. After death, people lose their strength. Even if they end up smiling, their smile will gradually disappear.

But Ma Hongsheng's smile seemed to be frozen, blooming clearly, as if lying on the ground joking with a friend.

Ma Hongsheng's body was already cold, and the rain was ruthlessly hitting his body. He must not move, smiling and bearing it.

Sang Tong took the deceased's hand, as she thought: there was no dirt in the deceased's nails, proving that there was no struggle before death. She sighed and kneaded the deceased's cheeks.

This face was as if the muscle structure was changed by some external force. No matter how much Sang Tong kneaded, the smile would not disappear.

Su Sifang sighed softly and took a piece of white cloth to cover the face of the deceased.