Inheriting sky-high priced antique shops

Do you believe in ghosts and gods?

This issue has followed Yang Ping'an for the past ten years, covered with a layer of veil, and has never left and has never been exposed.

He deeply remembers the antique shop at home—it was actually an antique shop, selling some jade and Buddha statue souvenirs in the tourist attractions of the ancient city. The reason why he has the confidence to say that it is an antique shop is that there are actually eleven pieces in the storage room that are not displayed. Antiques, genuine antiques, according to my father, are family heirlooms handed down from my great-grandfather who was rich in the late Republic of China.

Yang Ping'an's family didn't know the specific age information of the antiques. He also explored this question when he was a child, but he didn't get an answer, and he will never have an answer. He once thought naively why his parents didn't invite those collections. Friends at home to appraise it, and really did it.

Yang Ping'an had known the collector uncle since he was a child. He had a short round face and was very handsome. Yang Ping'an secretly discussed with him and asked him to help him identify the antiques at home.

The collector uncle didn't have the slightest curiosity after hearing this, but showed a weird and insightful smile, and patted his head: "Have you finished your homework?"

Yang Pingan immediately shut up.

Afterwards, he was probably informed, and my father suddenly talked about these eleven antiques at the dinner table: "Your grandfather, who kept these antiques all his life, told me when they were handed over to me, don't think about it, don't touch it. , What are antiques? Antiques belong to the dead, and if you touch them, you will be unlucky. Grandpa’s grandpa said the same thing. This is a family motto passed down from your ancestors, so you should remember it clearly!”

Yang Ping'an dismissed these rotten dross, but he didn't have the guts to confront him face to face. His passionate and restless heart couldn't bear it anymore. At night, he sneaked into the storage room again. Before he opened the glass cabinet, he touched the white jade hairpin closest to the door. , Dad vigilantly carried his slippers to catch him as a mouse.

It was the first time Yang Pingan saw his parents so angry. Now that he thought about it, it was not so much anger as anger after fear. He was beaten to pieces with a feather duster.

The next day, he lay on the bed and refused to go to school to express his resistance.

My mother came into the room and said peace: "We just hope you are safe and sound. You yell like this all day long, and you will have good fruit in the future?"

Yang Ping'an was furious: "A few antiques, after I touch them, there will be no good fruit to eat?" Looking at his mother sitting on the bedside and looking down at him, that look was dark and boundless The waves were all forcibly pressed into the calm pupils, and turned into a sigh: "Ping An, you can't touch these things for the rest of your life."

Facing that look, Yang Ping'an's back turned cold for no reason, and he didn't speak.

Mom reached out and patted his head: "Okay, stop pretending, I made your favorite eggplant box, get up and eat."

Mom got up and went out. Yang Pingan lay on the bed and thought about it. The eggplant box still had to be eaten, so he got up and followed out.

16 years old, on June 22, there was a torrential rain in early summer, and he held up a black umbrella, and the top of the umbrella leaked. Yang Pingan carried his schoolbag in front of him and strode quickly. Passing the walls of the ancient city, he heard the dull ringing of the strings in a trance. One sound.

It was only later that Yang Pingan realized that it was the sound of Guqin.

At that time, he was very intoxicated, standing silently in the rain, thinking, there is someone playing the piano in such a rainy day, what a thoughtful person.

There was a clang of the strings, but there was no more words.

Yang Pingan continued to walk along the stone wall, walked into the quaint street and returned home. His parents were not in the store. Yang Pingan searched around but saw no one. He sat behind the cash register and took out his homework first.

When it was dark, no one came back. Yang Ping'an was hungry. He took money from the cash register and planned to eat a bowl of noodles. When he opened the cash register, the key of the store appeared in front of him.

There are seven keys hung on a key ring, and all the key rings from the store to the storage room and bedroom to the cash register are made into a pile, and they are usually only hung on Dad's trousers button.

In his mind, his parents said to him two days ago: "You have grown up so much, it's time to learn to take care of yourself, don't worry us all the time." A strange feeling of uneasiness surged.

When the rain stopped, Yang Pingan went out to ask around the neighbors. Everyone hadn't seen his parents all day, so Yang Pingan immediately called the police.

The police car stopped in front of the store, and Yang Pingan stayed up all night, worried that this would be an oolong. If his parents came back suddenly at this time, he would be happy, but the police | would be pissed off.

This assumption didn’t come true. Uncle Zhao next door said that Yang Ping’an saw them leave the store after he left for school in the early morning. They all know each other on the same street, and they usually don’t close the store when they go out for a while, just to say hello. Let the neighbors help you to watch.

Chamber of the noodle shop also confirmed this: "Yes, when they go out in the morning, let me help look after the shop and wait for them to come back safely."

After investigating their home, the investigators suspected that it was related to these antiques. In this home, the things that are weird enough compared to the mysterious disappearance are these unknown antiques that have been passed down.

After checking and checking, there were no results. Yang Pingan rejected their idea of ​​searching for antiques, and the responsibility of guarding this pile of things fell on his shoulders without warning. Looking around, I can't find a clue.

My parents disappeared just like that, and it became an unsolved case, and there was no more follow-up.

Ten years later, Yang Ping'an stepped into the ranks of 26, stayed away from that small town, abandoned that antique shop, and was busy and fulfilling from nine to five.

To a certain extent, he has fulfilled his parents' expectations of him, and has nothing to do with those things forever, and he has also given up the responsibility of protecting them.

Until December 27th, the first snow day, when the cold wind blew off the fine snow flakes, Yang Pingan raised his hand and stretched his back.

A colleague put hot coffee on his table: "It seems that the snow this year is a little earlier than last year?"

"It's a little early." Yang Pingan picked up his coffee and looked at the snowflakes flying outside the glass. He gradually lost his mind. His heart seemed to be clenched by two hands, and he started to colic violently. snow white.

The cup fell on the floor and spilled coffee all over the floor. My colleague had rich experience in life and immediately called for emergency services.

Yang Ping'an's face was pale, and he frowned, when he heard the clang of the strings again.

There was a sound of 'burst', and the lingering sound echoed for a long time.

After arriving at the hospital, his symptoms were basically relieved, and he underwent a physical examination. There was nothing wrong with his whole body, so the doctor could only tell him to rest.

It was snowing all the time that day, and after confirming that nothing happened, I worked overtime until late at night. My colleagues talked energetically and went to have a supper and a drink.

Yang Ping'an was troubled by what happened during the day, so he didn't go and went home alone.

On the way home, all Yang Pingan could think of was the eleven antiques in his home. Those things were in the shop, as if hidden in his fate. Yang Pingan had the illusion that he was being strangled by the throat.

When they arrived at the door of their house, the sensor light on their floor was also broken that day. Yang Pingan wanted to go to bed early, but was stumbled by something, turned on the light of his mobile phone, and Yang Pingan got up. cold sweat.

It's a bronze wine decanter.

What Yang Pingan cares about is that an antique suddenly appeared in front of his house.

In his life, the word antique carries an indescribable poison.

Yang Pingan kicked that thing away and walked into the room, when suddenly a fierce force pushed him from behind and slammed into the shoe cabinet in the entrance.

At that moment, Yang Ping'an's judgment was that he was ambushed by the robbers, and he elbowed him backwards, but there was nothing behind him.

A cloud of air weighed on him, or rather, a ghost.

The moment he realized this, Yang Ping'an's hands and feet were stiff, and even his rapid breathing and exhaled air were cold.

Antiques, ghosts...

Yang Pingan was still stiff, and suddenly felt something approaching him behind him, buried in the back of his neck, it should be a face.

Goosebumps popped out crazily, something behind him suddenly kissed him, and the atmosphere suddenly developed to another edge strangely.

The worst part was that after being kissed by it, half of Yang Ping'an's body went numb, and a warm breath filled the air.

"You... what are you going to do?" Yang Ping'an had a bad premonition.

There was no response, only a cold hand stretched into his clothes, the extreme coldness, the temperature like a nightmare, instantly extinguished the warmth rising in his body.

Yang Ping'an struggled violently.

Suddenly he heard the sound of a piano, and the movements behind him suddenly froze, as if they were extremely unwilling to clamp him tightly, Yang Pingan felt that he was going to be strangled.

The sensor light outside the door suddenly turned on, and the light shone into the room. Yang Ping'an didn't give up on saving himself, turned around to push him away, and was stunned when he met the eyes of the thing behind him.

This thing turned out to be a very good-looking person——thinking about it, it should indeed be a person, but Yang Pingan imagined this thing as a hideous and terrifying monster preconceived.

Suddenly this person turned into a puff of black smoke, and got into the bronze wine bottle by the crack of the door in a blink of an eye.

A young man wearing a long windbreaker and carrying a piano appeared in the corridor, walked over step by step, looked down at the bronze wine bottle on the ground, his eyes were a little moved, with indescribable sadness.

Yang Pingan looked at his eyes, and it was almost inseparable because he knew this thing. The trust in his heart was lost by half in an instant, and he was a little wary: "May I ask who you are?"

The man raised his eyes, and Yang Pingan met his gaze with such an inexplicable feeling, maybe it was the characteristic of this man's eyes?

"My name doesn't matter, what matters is what's happening to you."

Yang Pingan waited for his next words.

"You know, there is not much life left."

Yang Pingan didn't expect the other party to say such panic-stricken words. He calmed down and looked at the guqin behind the other party. His memory drifted to a deep place: "That summer ten years ago, on June 22, my parents On the day I disappeared, I heard a guqin in the rain, did you play it?"

The author has something to say: bragging goes to fantasy, nonsense to history, everything depends on bragging, no textual research, no textual research, no textual research, the author's knowledge base is weak, and it may be exhausted after a test.

At the third watch on the first day, CP is a ghost, welcome to fall into the pit.

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