That is something very similar to that of female writers.
Seeing this, the expression on the female writer's face suddenly became even more astonished, and she stared at him in disbelief: "What you mean, doesn't it mean that we are cheating on you, and we even have a token of love?!"
"Ahem, don't get excited."
The pianist put the note cufflinks back into his pocket in embarrassment and continued: "Maybe this thing is a gift given to us by someone else?"
The female writer frowned slightly, but she quickly thought of another person who often appeared in her diary later: "Blind girl?"
"Yes." The pianist nodded.
"But I haven't seen anything similar on a blind girl." The female writer put her chin on her head in thought.
"You haven't seen it on me either," the pianist said.
"..."
But after thinking about the doll-collar dress the blind girl wore, it didn’t look like it had pockets for storage.
The reason why the pianist speculated like this was that, apart from the fact that neither of them felt that they were having an affair, it was also recorded in the handbook that the relationship between the three of them was very close and subtle.
In the hearts of female writers who are dedicated to pursuing inspiration, the status of the pianist may be similar to that of the blind girl. Because of her arrival, the pianist has given her creative inspiration.
More importantly, what the blind girl said before when he was playing the piano.
At that time, not only was the dancer's behavior a bit strange, he felt that the blind girl's reaction was also a bit puzzling.
"Although she is also in my handbook records, and she is basically not a 'murderer', I always think she is weird." The female writer frowned and said softly: "You don't really think she said that in the living room before
The 'so-called impression' is completely credible, right?"
"I don't know if what she said is credible, but I find that you don't trust anyone." The pianist spread his hands.
"There is no way, we have no memory." The female writer was noncommittal.
"It's a pity. If the dancer hadn't been pestering her, maybe the three of us could have cooperated in the investigation," the pianist said.
"You don't trust the dancers?"
The pianist didn't speak, but raised his finger and pointed at the ceiling of the piano room.
Although the villa has only two floors, for a house with this kind of duplex structure, the owner usually designs the space under the sloped roof as an attic, which is usually used for leisure and entertainment, or as a private storage room.
[In the attic, the tapping footsteps intertwined with a requiem, dancing freely in this silent world.]
There are many guest rooms in the villa, but why do the dancers live in the attic?
Maybe it's not necessarily where she lives, but no matter what, that place must be her territory in the villa.
This site is really a bit weird.
The female writer looked up at the ceiling, her eyes flickered, and said, "What happened up there?"
The pianist waved his hand and did not respond to her question. Instead, he said: "We can't go directly to the blind girl to get information. Let's just go to her room and take a look. If she didn't bring anything with her, it might be in the room.
.”
The female writer looked at him suspiciously: "You don't just want to find an excuse to go to someone else's room, do you?"
In the final analysis, those words just now were nothing more than their speculations and fabrications.
…
Finally, the two of them arrived at the door of the blind girl's room.
The blind girl's room was close to the spiral staircase. After walking out of the piano room, the pianist looked down the corridor furtively, but there was no one in the living room.
"They are in the kitchen now." The female writer said helplessly.
"Hey, it would be embarrassing if I were caught doing something wrong." The pianist said with a smile.
"The lawyer and I have seen this room before, and there is nothing unusual about it." The female writer stood nearby and gestured to him towards the reddish-brown door panel in front of him.
"Looking and searching are two different ways."
As the pianist spoke, his hand was already on the doorknob, but when it touched something cold and cold, he quickly retracted his hand.
The reddish-brown door panel in front of him was unremarkable, the same style as every guest room in the villa, but the pianist's expression turned a little weird.
He stared blankly at the door in front of him, his focused gaze seeming to penetrate the door panel and see the scene inside.
The female writer waited for a long time, but didn't see the door open. She couldn't help but turned around in confusion: "What's wrong?"
"Ahem." The pianist lowered his head, looked at the dark crack under the door panel that was close to the floor, and said in a strange tone: "How about you open it?"
As he spoke, he took a few steps back and gave up his position.
The female writer looked at him strangely: "What do you mean by opening the door?"
As she spoke, she took a step across to the door of the room, but just when the female writer raised her hand to press the door handle, she suddenly paused.
No, what's the point of opening the door?
The female writer suddenly turned her head to look at the pianist behind her, looking at him from top to bottom with sharp eyes and frowning slightly.
The pianist blinked: "What's wrong? Open it. Haven't you already gone in and looked at it before? I thought about it. As a man, I don't want to open the door of a girl's room."
After staring at him for a long time, the female writer sneered, turned around and walked away from the blind girl's room. The sound of high-heeled shoes hitting the ground faded away.
The pianist looked at her retreating back with some regret, and then turned to the door in front of him.
He couldn't tell what it felt like, but he felt that if he opened this door, he would face an abyss!
This disgusting malice is so obvious that it’s better to leave it to others to face.
…
…
Kitchen on the first floor.
The dancer was supporting the girl and carefully explaining to her the bloody scene in the kitchen.
At this time, as if sensing something, the dancer raised his head slightly and looked towards the second floor, with a strange smile on his lips.
"What's wrong?" Xu Shuo asked aloud.
"Huh?" The dancer paused.
"You just said that there is something weird in the refrigerator." Xu Shuo said, holding the cane in his right hand and leaning it gently on the ground.
"Oh, let me open it for you and take a look!"
The dancer reacted and opened the refrigerator door enthusiastically. Immediately, the blood that had been accumulated inside dripped down again, immediately staining the surface of the refrigerator with blood stains.
The blood flowing to the ground continued to spread. The dancer supported Xu Shuo and hid beside him, being careful not to let the blood stains on his skirt.
"Let me tell you, there are scary things like heads, organs, and bodies in here!" the dancer said in a nervous tone.
"Yeah?"
Xu Shuo stretched out his hand to touch the thing inside, but his hand that was stretched out in mid-air was suddenly caught by the other party.
The dancer smiled and said: "It's so dirty, don't touch it."
Xu Shuo retracted his hand and asked: "Is it a man or a woman inside?"
"Female."
"How old?"
"Hey, right?"
"...I'm talking about, how old is she?"
"You can't see it anymore."
The dancer looked at the empty refrigerator and said thoughtfully: "But the bodies that are missing a few pounds must have been eaten a lot. I think the murderer kept these in the refrigerator and planned to continue to eat them in the future."
"She is so pitiful." Xu Shuo said quietly, turning to face the door: "After looking at the kitchen, go and look at other places as well."