Your fatty

"Hot Noodles request to add you as a friend."
An inexplicable friend request, a non-existent contact.
Claiming to be a message from herself in the future, intimately knowledgeable about her past.
Fang Xiaocao was utterly numb.
Hot Noodles: Danger, do not go home tonight.
"Is this some kind of joke?"
Staring at the WeChat message, Fang Xiaocao rolled her eyes and opened the anti-theft door.
Hot Noodles: At midnight, when the knocking starts, don't turn on the light if you don't want to die.
In the early morning: 00:00:00
Fang Xiaocao was woken by the knocking sound. She was just about to turn on the bedside lamp when she remembered that bizarre message.
She pulled back her hand and stayed put until dawn, only to know her neighbor next door, a woman living alone just like her was murdered at midnight...
Fang Xiaocao was suddenly covered in a cold sweat.
Hot Noodles: To celebrate our narrow escape from death, go to the flea market before three in the afternoon, stall number 7, and buy the seventh inkstone on the left-hand side. The seller's bottom price is 80, but the inkstone is worth 8 million.
After last night's ordeal, Fang Xiaocao inexplicably chose to believe.
She successfully bought an inkstone for a hundred dollars, and later discover it was indeed a imperial inkstone from the Qing Qianlong era, worthing 8 million!
Fang Xiaocao stood there, dumbfounded!
Following the message's instructions, she bought a second-hand car.
But little did she know, the guidance was linking her into a series of events that dragged out a murder case and a fortune worth two small goals.
Who on earth sent her the messages?
It's really her future self?
Or it's some kind of bizarre game?

I Received Messages From Future Self!

Seeing this scene, Song Lin was horrified.


Without time to think any further, Song Lin ran towards the first-floor window.


Stepping on the windowsill, gripping the cracks in the bricks, he began to climb toward the second floor.


The small building had a second floor; the door on the first floor was a security iron door, utterly impossible to kick open.


The windows on the first floor were also fitted with security bars, simply unclimbable.


Only the second-floor bedroom, because it had a small balcony, hadn't been fitted with any security equipment.


Song Lin carefully gripped the cracks in the bricks, inching upwards. His fingers turned white from the strain. After climbing two or three meters he had already scraped them, his fingertips marked with blood, and a piercing pain swept over him.


Fortunately, the small balcony on the second floor was about seven meters above the ground. Song Lin gritted his teeth and persisted, soon reaching the edge of the balcony.


Chapter 50 The Devil's Game