Chapter 696 Who Is the Chef?

Real world, the sixteenth floor.

The blood on Fang Shenyan's face has been wiped clean, but his glasses have disappeared.

However, even without glasses, you can see his spirit from his bright eyes.

He has never been a nearsighted person.

As for why he wears glasses, no one knows the reason behind it.

The sixteenth floor, no one here.

Although it is the first time to come to the store manager mission, the scene in front of me is nothing special.

There are many sundries and shoe racks in the narrow and long corridor, making the already crowded corridor even more crowded.

The smell in the corridor is not good, Fang Shenyan covered his mouth and nose and walked forward slowly.

The corridor has been very quiet, and he has not heard any movement since he got off the elevator.

The people on both sides of this side also closed their doors, and there was no sound inside.

When Fang Shenyan passed through 1604, he caught a glimpse of a huge black garbage bag placed in front of this house.

I don't know what is in the garbage bag, but there doesn't seem to be much in it.

His vision could not penetrate the surface, but he saw dark yellow turbid liquid seeping out from under the garbage bag.

Because Fang Shenyan had close contact with Mu Nianmei when he was a child, he had a very deep impression of this black plastic bag.

He always felt that there was nothing good in it, so he slowly leaned down.

"Zizizi..."

But just as he was about to open it, a strange sound suddenly came from the depths of the corridor.

The sound was like freshly washed pork falling into the oil pan, frying the fat.

Fang Shenyan slowly straightened up, and he looked in the direction of the sound, and saw oil smoke floating out of a door in front of him.

Originally, with his personality, he would not be interrupted immediately once he was about to do something.

But for some reason, when the sound sounded, especially when the smell of oil smoke became stronger and stronger, he couldn't help but walk forward.

And when Fang Shenyan's back gradually walked towards that room.

Behind him, which he could not see, the first illusory shadow suddenly appeared.

He took a step, and it took a step.

The shadow followed him silently.

Then, the second shadow appeared, the third, the fourth...

By the time Fang Shenyan walked into the house with the door open, the shadow behind him had filled the entire 16th floor.

Fang Shenyan, who was completely unaware of all this, stood at the door with a frown, but stopped.

Compared with Ru Ru's house, this house is almost two or three times larger.

The overall space is very large, but there are few furnitures, and there is not even any breath of life.

As far as the eye can see, there are white ceilings, white walls and white floor tiles.

A dark yellow liquid was splashed on the pure white floor tiles at the door of the room.

It is very similar to the liquid seen in the corridor, but it is clearer.

Fang Shenyan lowered his head to look at it and saw his face from inside.

This three-bedroom, one-living room house has an empty living room, with nothing.

The empty appearance made Fang Shenyan a little confused about where this place is.

What really caught his attention was the source of the oil smoke.

When he came to the house, the "sizzling" sound continued, and the smell of oil smoke became stronger.

Fang Shenyan covered his nose, looked down at the liquid at his feet, and went to the oil smoke.

This is a kitchen of about ten square meters. The stove is long and wide, and there are many pots and pans.

He walked in from the door and checked them one by one.

From left to right, a huge stainless steel basin was empty.

There was only some solidified grease in the basin. He took a quick look and felt that it was yellow and greasy.

The second stainless steel was the same, but it looked very clean.

In the third stainless steel basin, there were some black things left.

It was just a quick glance, and Fang Shenyan's annoyance became more and more obvious.

He looked at these stainless steel basins and felt a heartfelt resistance.

But he did not rush to draw conclusions because the clues in front of him were incomplete.

Finally, he saw the oil pan on the stove that was still being heated at high temperature.

This big pot was filled with most of the dark yellow oil, and the boiling butter was surging up and down in the oil pan.

No one.

There is no one here.

But the pot is heating, the oil is boiling, and something is frying.

Fang Shenyan looked at the pitch-black pot handle. He didn't want to smell this smell anymore, so he slowly put his hand on the stove and prepared to turn off the fire.

However, just as he touched the switch, a flash of lightning suddenly flashed through his mind.

He suddenly felt a sharp pain in his head, as if he was hit by an axe on the back of his head.

Frames of strange pictures, fragments of broken fragments, squeezed into his head at the same time.

...

A palm wearing sleeves and rubber gloves appeared in the picture.

Only the back of the hand could be seen, and something was held in his palm, as if kneading it.

After a while, something was thrown into the boiling oil pan.

Once it entered, it was like water and fire collided together, producing scorching high temperature and thick white smoke.

It rolled and turned inside, and flour fell layer by layer on the bottom of the pot, but it was still impossible to see what was wrapped inside.

The owner of the hand did not pause, and took another object from the right side and threw it into the pot.

…

This was just a beginningless and endless frying scene.

Fang Shenyan subconsciously looked at the right side of the oil pan, where there were only some oil stains.

This picture is a locked perspective, and the container does not enter the picture.

He frowned, and finally turned off the fire, looking at the butter still boiling in the frying pan, and moved away.

With the experience of the last time, he came to the third stainless steel basin.

After he touched it gently with his hand, the pain came again.

A gray sack, bulging inside, as if it was full of things.

This time, he saw two hands, untying the rope of the sack at the same time, and moving the things inside out.

Judging from the sleeves and gloves, these are the hands of the same person, and they are the same person as before.

Fang Shenyan tentatively called it "chef".

What the chef took out of the sack was a snow-white thing.

It's just that the picture is obscure and blurry, making it difficult to see what it is.

He didn't wash it, and threw the pig's trotters from the sack into the pot.

For some reason, Fang Shenyan always felt very familiar when looking at it.

It was as if he had seen it...

But it was impossible to have seen it.

He would fry and fish out every five he threw, then throw five more, and repeat.

Because the screen skipped too quickly and the perspective was locked, Fang Shenyan didn't observe carefully enough.

He wanted to take a look at what the inside of the sack looked like, but the screen was frozen.

The situation in another basin was similar.

On the left was a meat stuffing machine, and on the right was a chopping board.

The chef kept throwing the stuffing mixed in the meat stuffing machine on the chopping board, rolled up his sleeves and kneaded it with a rolling pin.

Every time he kneaded one, he threw one into the pot.

Fang Shenyan was like an outsider, silently watching every move of the chef.

These actions seemed casual and ordinary, but he felt more and more disgusted, irritated, and weird.

The last stainless steel basin.

This time, the chef changed the props again.

Boning knife, meat cleaver, wooden block, rib bones.

The chef skillfully used the boning knife to cut something vague.

Put the slender object on the wooden block, and cut it into small pieces with a knife.

A series of actions flowed smoothly and repeated continuously, like an infinite loop of the same scene.

Fang Shenyan observed in the silent clip. He was almost finished watching, but he didn't find any abnormal points.

But he was sure that it must be something in this room that brought him to the sixteenth floor.

Since that thing wanted to show him these, it must have its intention, or it would reveal clues.

What exactly is it?

The clip ended, frozen in the last frame, but he couldn't find the answer.

Until...

When he was about to regain his mind, he suddenly discovered a horrible fact in the last frame.

Under the dim sunlight, the chef raised the meat cleaver and made the normal action of cutting meat.

But the smooth and thick back of the knife flashed an arc in the air, like a mirror reflecting something terrible.

The real face of the chef was reflected on the back of the knife.

It was a face that Fang Shenyan was very familiar with, and he saw it every day.

Because that face was his own!