A Man On A Business Trip Meets A Mysterious Woman At Night And Stays In The Strange Room 317. Horror Stories Happen One After Another And Shocking Secrets Are Hidden Behind Them.

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

Since I graduated from school, I found a job with two days off a week and a decent salary. However, there is one thing I don’t like very much, which is that I am always on business trips, which makes me often lie in unfamiliar places and miss my home.

This time, I was on a business trip again, from Yantai to another unfamiliar city. After a brief familiarity with the terrain, I found a hotel with a large storefront and nice rooms. The boss took good care of me, of course, because of me. Because he asked to stay here permanently, he was very nice to me.

Even so, all conditions are very good, but there are still some factors that make me feel disharmonious. For example, at nine or ten o'clock in the evening, there are always calls asking me if I need special services, repeatedly disturbing my rest. After that, I finally unplugged the phone line, but it still couldn't stop their determination and perseverance to make money. When the phone was not working, they even knocked on the door of the hotel to solicit business. Every time I opened the door curiously, I always see a seductively dressed woman standing at the door, so I never ask her what's going on and just close the door.

I was helpless. Why would a young person choose such a career that wastes his youth when there are so many other things he can do? The TV was flashing with images. It was a legal education program that was talking about these things. He gently pressed the forward button in his hand, and when the picture jumped, the door rang again.

I seem to have gotten used to it. I looked up at the clock on the wall. It was half past eleven. It seemed that I was a little late today. I walked to the door and opened it. Sure enough, there was a girl in a white dress standing outside. She smiled and looked at me. She looked at me and was about to speak, but I interrupted her. Even if she didn't say anything, I knew what she was going to say: "Sorry, it's not necessary." After she finished speaking, she was about to close the door, but her hand suddenly pressed on the door. superior.

"I'm sorry, I'm not a vendor and I don't sell anything. I just want to ask how to get to room 317." After she said that, she smiled at me again.

"Ah!" I felt my face getting a little red. Fortunately, she didn't know what I meant by "no need". Otherwise, I really wouldn't know where to put my face. I scratched my head and said apologetically: " Actually, I just moved in a few days ago, so I'm not sure about these rooms. Mine is room 316, which is next door.

"Thank you." She bowed to me and then floated away. Her beautiful figure was like a white line, flashing a little light in the dark night. Looking at her back, she was…really beautiful.

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

I closed the door, but her figure was always in my mind, her every move, her smile, and even – her back.

Oh no, I really can't sleep. I think I can like her, maybe. I tossed and turned in bed, and I heard the shaking sound of the bed next to me on the left, "creak". "Creak"… the sound kept going on. A woman's wailing sounded continuously in my ears. I had heard this sound in some special Japanese movies before, and now the three-dimensional effect finally appeared in my ears.

I finally couldn't help it, so I opened the door and walked to the next door on the left. I could still hear the sound from the crack of the door. I looked up and saw the number 315. I was about to knock on the door, but suddenly I felt The behavior seemed ridiculous. Why should I disturb other people's affairs? I smiled bitterly and prepared to go back to the room. I walked to the door and wanted to open it, but I thought of that woman. I couldn't help but look to the right. In the dark corridor, I saw the stairs to the right of my room. Doesn't she live in 317? How…

After entering the room, I was puzzled. Maybe she remembered it wrongly. There were only sixteen rooms on this floor. Where did the seventeenth one come from? I lay on the bed and turned off the TV. At this time, the noise from room 315 gradually subsided. I turned over and seemed to be even more unable to sleep. I was a little anxious. I didn't know where she was.

The desire to see her became stronger and stronger. In the middle of the night, my eyes were wide open and I didn't feel like sleeping at all. But when my thoughts filled my nerves, the bed was shaking. The voice sounded again. I looked helplessly at the wall on the left. This man was too powerful.

No, that's not right. It seems like this voice…

After the sound had been going on for about five minutes, I felt that the sound did not seem to be coming from the left wall. I moved closer to the left wall and listened carefully. Sure enough, it was very quiet inside, without any sound at all.

I looked at the wall on the right in confusion, and then slowly moved closer to the wall on the right. The sound of the bed shaking became clearer, and the "creaking" sound kept disturbing my eardrums. How could it be on the right side? I was still listening, I wanted to believe that there was something wrong with my ears, but at this moment, the sound stopped abruptly…

What's going on? I pressed my ear against the wall to see if it was dead , but there was no sound. Suddenly, there was another knock on my door.

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

I was stunned for a moment, then put on my slippers and opened the door. The moment I opened the door, I was stunned. That woman appeared in front of me again. She still had that warm smile and was still very polite. Bow to me.

She said embarrassedly: "I'm sorry to disturb your rest."

"No, ah, it's okay, I haven't slept yet." My mouth suddenly stopped following the command of my brain, and I spoke hesitantly.

"There's a stool missing from my room, and I need it right now. Do you have one?"

"Yes, yes." I hurried back and took out a stool: "I'll bring it over for you. Which room do you live in?"

"Room 317."

"Oh, okay." I just took the stool out, but my hand suddenly stopped in the air: "No. 317?"

"Yes, it's No. 317. What's wrong?" she asked.

"No, let me get it for you." I said without waiting for her to answer and walked out the door.

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

She looked at me helplessly and managed to force a smile: "Okay!"

After walking a few steps, I saw that there was indeed a room in front of me. She said to me, "Thank you, we are here."

"Oh, OK." I handed her the stool and looked at the name on the floor. 317. Yes, it was really Room 317. How come it seemed like…

"Come in and sit down." My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by her question.

I quickly turned my eyes to her: "Ah, me, as long as you are not busy."

"It's not busy now. Please come in." She let me into the room and made me a cup of tea.

I took the cup, wondering if the sound just now came from here, but it seemed that there was no man here. When my eyes saw the twisted bed, I thought, A man just came in here and went out again.

"I'm a novelist." Her words interrupted my thoughts again: "Every time I write, I like to change the place where I live. I like to write in the dark, so that I can feel it. Because I write It’s a horror novel.”

"Ha, that's interesting. I like horror stories very much. I often look for horror novels online and I also like listening to Zhang Zhen tell stories." I paused and said, "Do you have any good stories? Can you share the author?"

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

"Haha, okay, since you are interested, let me think about it. By the way, I am writing a short horror novel recently. I can listen to it for you first." She sat on the sofa and turned off the room. The lights in the room: "Create some atmosphere."

“Okay, this atmosphere is great.”

"The story happened in 2010, just like now, it was a hot summer. It was also written by a female novelist. She had the same hobby as me, she liked to write about things that had no meaning at all in strange environments and dark corners. She lived in a large room, closed the door and lights, and the only light around was the flashing screen of the computer. She immersed herself in it and wrote the first sentence. At this moment, the door of the room opened, and she turned around quickly, but she did not see the man. In the darkness, she could only see his general outline.

"She asked the man what he was doing, but unfortunately, she didn't hear the answer. She only saw the man walking towards her. She felt a little dangerous and wanted to step back, but the back was a darker corner than the front. So she was pushed onto the bed by that man, and something happened that she would never forget in her life. She did not scream, nor did she feel the slightest pain. She bid farewell to her youth in numbness. After a short while, that man left, leaving only She was left alone.”

"It didn't take long for her life to change drastically. She felt that life didn't have much meaning anymore. If her fiancé knew about this, what would she do? She was ready to end her life, so he left. She went to the next room and borrowed a stool from the customer inside. The man was also attracted by her beauty and took the initiative to ask for the stool to be sent to her room. She pretended to be very happy and then She brought him to the room, and then she made a cup of tea for the man, a cup of tea with sleeping pills, which she used when she couldn't sleep. There were fifty pills left. She put all the pills in the tea, and then He watched the man fall into a deep sleep in confusion, so she smiled, slowly stood on the stool, put a noose around her neck, and ended her young life.

I took a sip of tea slowly, then asked curiously, "Why did she hang herself if she had sleeping pills? Isn't this very uncomfortable?"

She smiled: "Because she is a horror writer and she wants to die in a horrible way."

"Yes, hanging is indeed…" My eyes blurred for a moment, and I felt a little dizzy. I kept wanting to close my eyes. "It is indeed very scary. I took out a wet towel and wiped my face vigorously. I sobered up a little: "Why do I feel that the story you told is very similar to what is happening now? A beautiful horror writer borrowed a stool from my room, and then…haha, it seems to be happening right next to me. of."

The light suddenly turned on, and her expression was very calm: "Maybe, in fact, this story is not scary at all."

Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_Is Zhang Zhen dead or not?_The truth about Zhang Zhen's death

I saw the clock on the wall was already one in the middle of the night, I smiled at her apologetically and said, "I'm sorry, it's too late, I should go home, I have work tomorrow."

"Well, it's time for me to get to work." She stood up and saw me off.

I went back to the room and slowly lay down on the bed. Was Zhang Zhen dead ? Strangely, the feeling of wanting to sleep disappeared again. My nerves became alert again. I was afraid that I was out of control. My hands kept groping for the remote control on the bed. I could not find any trace of the device. Suddenly, at this moment, I heard a sound from next door. What fell over?

I fell asleep in a trance watching TV. In my dream, that familiar figure appeared again, especially her beautiful back and the moment she left.

The alarm clock woke me up at six in the morning. I got up quickly because it was early for work. I tied my tie hastily, locked the door, and walked to the right as usual. After walking a few steps, I suddenly saw the staircase on the right side of my room. On one side of the staircase, there was a stool lying upside down.

The cleaning lady came up to me and said, "It's the same again. She puts the stool here every day. Who is this? Are you crazy?" She glanced at me and I felt that her eyes were not right. Why did she look down on me? look at me.

I watched her take the stool away, but my mind was thinking of that woman, who was yesterday…stool? …Room 317…the horror writer?

"Excuse me, where is room 317?"

The voice came in my ears, I was stunned for a moment, then slowly turned around, there was no one behind me, was it my imagination?

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