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Thinking that the clothes on my body were worn by a person who had just died, I got goosebumps all over my body.

But all my own clothes were searched, and if I didn't wear anything, I would only have my bare buttocks.

When you get to a place like this, you don't have to worry about being particular.

It is not difficult to guess that this is the new factory of Greentown Electronics Factory, where laborers are detained.

The environment was like a dungeon, dark and dark, and everywhere was filled with the smell of dampness and decay.

The people imprisoned here are like rats living in the sewer.

"Brother, the numbers on the clothes are just numbers. What I want to ask is your real name." I sat on the damp and cold ground and rolled up my wide cuffs.

"Real name?" No. 39, who was leaning on the iron railing, showed an ugly wry smile.

"After staying here for a long time, who will remember who they are? They don't even remember how they got to this damn place. No one knows how long it has been. I'm afraid no one even thinks about the color of the sky. Get up."

"Then do you know other people's names? Is there anyone named Zhao Xiaojun here?" I frowned.

Zhao Xiaohai struggled to get up from the bed, stumbled to the railing, stared closely at the man opposite, and asked eagerly: "Zhao Xiaojun is my brother, have you seen him?"

No. 39 glanced at him and shook his head slightly, with numbness and indifference in his tone.

"No one here will say their name, and even if they do, no one will remember it."

"It doesn't matter if you don't know the name. My brother and I look very similar, but he is darker and thinner. Think about it, have you ever seen such a person?" Zhao Xiaohai pointed at his face and said.

"Your appearance will change when you get here. After working once, everyone here will look the same. If your brother is really here, I don't know whether to say you are lucky or pathetic."

I don’t know why, but I feel like there’s a hint of schadenfreude in No. 39’s expression.

"Fortunately you have family to keep you company, but sadly, maybe he doesn't remember you anymore."

"My brother just came two months ago. He must still remember me. He can't forget!" Zhao Xiaohai gritted his teeth stubbornly, and the finger bones of his hand holding the railing turned white from the force.

"Save your strength, work will start soon. Soon you will know that you are too naive, and even death is a luxury when you get here."

Number 39 crawled back into the darkness like an animal and said no more.

Silence returned to the underground cell.

Zhao Xiaohai lowered his head, his thin shoulders trembling.

"My brother will never forget me! No way!"

"Don't think too much, Xiaohai! There is no clear evidence yet that your brother is trapped here." I put my hand on his shoulder and comforted him.

"Even if he is here, it has only been two months. Human memory does not deteriorate that fast."

"I know!" Zhao Xiaohai wiped his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"No. 39 said that work will start later and the workers will be released from the cells. Then there will be a chance to find your brother."

"Yes!" Zhao Xiaohai nodded heavily, "Brother Yunfeng, what about your friend? What does he look like? I will help you keep an eye on it when the time comes."

"Xiao Hai, at this time, I have to tell you the truth." I said solemnly, "Actually, I am not here to find anyone, but for another reason."

Zhao Xiaohai was stunned: "Then you are?"

"I am a horror novelist who specializes in collecting supernatural stories hidden in the city. As novel material, after all, only personal experience can give readers the most realistic feeling."

I sighed inwardly.

"I just didn't expect that this time it would be particularly dangerous, that someone would plot against me, and that I would end up in this situation."

Zhao Xiaohai's mouth slowly opened wide and he looked at me in shock.

"I didn't expect you, Brother Yunfeng, to be such a great writer! When I have a break, I like to read online novels the most. If I can go out, I will definitely read your works!"

"There must be a chance."

Zhao Xiaohai is simple by nature and has no doubts. On the contrary, he looks very admired. This made me feel ashamed and I quickly changed the subject.

"When we go to work, let's go separate ways. You go find your brother, and I'll go find my backpack."

I looked at him seriously.

"There is something in the backpack that is very important to me and related to my life, so I can't stay with you all the time. Can you do it alone?"

"Don't worry, Brother Yunfeng! I know how to take care of myself." Zhao Xiaohai nodded vigorously.

"We have no idea what's going on outside. All we have to do is act by ear. I hope we're lucky enough to survive tonight."

I squinted and looked down the dark and eerie corridor.

I haven't disappeared yet, which means the live broadcast time hasn't come yet.

As long as there is a glimmer of hope, I will not give up even if it is the last moment.

If I want to retrieve the mobile phone in the live broadcast room, I must first find Cao Jinwang. Going to work is my only chance.

The iron bars of the cell are locked from the outside and cannot be opened manually.

"Keep your strength up and rest first."

Zhao Xiaohai and I returned to bed. Our heads were no longer dizzy, and our body's strength had also recovered a lot.

Looking at the simple bed board, although my body was lying down, my mood could not relax for a moment.

Tossing and turning, I suddenly discovered that there were several rows of very small words on the mottled cement wall inside the bed.

I leaned over and took a closer look. There were rows of crooked characters. The handwriting was dark red and black, and had dried up. Everyone must have bitten their fingers and written with blood from their fingertips.

Count with straight words?

I counted a total of 70 complete orthographic characters. The last orthographic character only had one horizontal line and could not be completed, with a total of 351 strokes.

What does this number represent?

The last person who lay on this bed was imprisoned for 351 days?

I stretched out my index finger and lightly traced the characters.

The same posture, the same situation, I seem to be able to understand the mood of the previous No. 44.

He was tortured every day but still refused to give up. He bit his fingers and wrote the correct words one after another on the wall.

Looking for hope in despair, it is a pity that he did not succeed in the end.

With a heavy heart, I let out a long sigh, looked down, and found that there seemed to be a line of smaller words on the wall covered by the bed board.

I glanced toward the hallway, stood up, and moved the canopy bed a little further away.

Something on the wall made my heart, which was originally weighed down by a stone, suddenly beat violently.

This turned out to be a map drawn with fingertip blood.

Simple, yet clear.

The small squares represent different areas and are labeled with corresponding names.

The workroom is the largest in area. Opposite is the management room. There is a small toilet in the corner. Going out from the corridor of the dormitory is the workroom.

At the very back of the management room, there is a small square with a question mark on it. I don’t know what space it is.

Boom, boom, boom!

As I was watching, the sound of sticks tapping on the wall suddenly came from outside.

"start work!"