The most impressive story you’ve ever had? – What?
The Last Truth.
At the university, the counselors don’t care about you hanging out, skipping classes, going to clubs.
They only care if you die in school.
Many of the universities that look like they’re in peace, there’s a black screen.
At a media school in the middle and lower part of the Yangtze River, the deaths of students occurred at the school.
Specifically, I can’t say which school paid for the silence and threatened us with a successful graduation.
Now that I’ve graduated for years, I want to tell the story.
Try not to be emotional, but to be personal.
I have a good relationship with the dead, and I’m gonna call him, and I’m gonna tell him about it, and I’m gonna tell him the truth, because there are two versions of the story.
It is an incomplete version that is still in circulation in schools.
The names that follow are aliases and do not need to be traced.
When they first got into school, they had to do a psychological survey, the last question being “Does your family have a history of mental illness?”
Usually people fill out real information here, and then we ask the teacher, and the suicide student also fills out real information.
He has moderate depression.
Here’s what we call “silent.” That’s the nickname we gave him in our bedroom.
The nickname was not to bully him, everyone had a nickname, boys in college, everyone understood, always making unrealistic jokes.
Back to business.
In the bedroom, we noticed that the meds were always taken, and later we found out that the drug was called “Paroctimines of hydrochloric acid” and specialized in depression.
The tablets of the tablets of hydrochloric acid are 10, each with a slit in the middle, so we usually take 1.5 tablets every time we look at the stale.
It was a big semester, and he came back late to study and saw an empty aluminum table on his desk.
In retrospect, I and a few other roommates thought it was a dull night, or maybe it was a pill that had already eaten a lot, and he was just finished that night.
Speaking of which, it should be guessed that this suicide is my roommate.
Four people in one bedroom, three of us in one class, so we don’t usually know what’s going on with him.
He’s only good at his grades, he’s already a member of the RP, and he must have been in the first place.
It’s not the sun, it’s the sun, it’s the skin, it’s the general, and I didn’t know it until the second year of school.
He’s a perfect man, except when he doesn’t talk.
But he doesn’t have any friends, except with us, alone.
Weekends are always early and late, sometimes they don’t come back.
We asked him where he went, and he didn’t tell us. It was just a bitter smile.
Work. I’m sorry.
We know that his family is not well-off and that he takes his own medications often, so the cost of living is not enough.
There are therefore casual workers who are studying in canteens during the school year and are studying at home next semester.
That’s why our bedroom buddies took care of him.
It was Friday, after 11:00 p.m., he hasn’t returned to his bedroom.
Bedrooms are usually closed at 10:00.
We thought he might be working part time again today.
Because it’s Friday. We don’t have classes tomorrow.
So we didn’t lock the door, and if we come back in the daytime, we can come in and knock on the door and wake us up.
And then everybody goes to bed, and they fall back, and the boys who love sports don’t sleep badly.
The next day.
One of the boys, who woke up in his urine, was lost and his eyes were not open, completely feeling out of bed, wearing slippers and then walking in the direction of the bathroom, hitting something on his shoulder, too sleepy and without a tube.
After the water was released, he returned along the same path and hit something this time.
He’s just out of water and conscious.
It’s not like I’m going to have to do this.
I took a look and scared the chair and the shoe racks on the wall.
“Aah!”
We woke up with this voice.
“What’s wrong? I’m sorry.
I just asked for the exit, and I looked against the cynics that were hanging at the time.
At that time, his body turned in half-empty, and it went in my direction, with his eyes on the top, his eyes on me, his tongue on his lower lips, and his tongue coming out a little bit.
I remember it well.
The brain is suddenly blank, its heart is squeezing, it’s squeezing in and out in a breath.
We saw the strangulation under the electric fan.
Let’s see, we’re all here to study in college, and our roommates in the same room are dead or hanged while we’re asleep.
The key is here.
It’s kind of chilly, and now I’m scared.
We’re all guessing about how the boredom died that day.
Maybe in the early morning, when we were asleep, he went back to his bedroom, looked for a rope, went through the walls to hang the hook used by the fan, and then hit a knot…
Let’s get dressed and we won’t move.
I went out with one of my roommates to call the canteen, and the other one was in charge of keeping the other classmates out.
On the way, we’re always asked.
Dead? Real dead?
“I heard it was hanging, really. I’m sorry.
I always say “dead” and “kill” and so on, but I’m really scared to see people die.
So we kept our mouths shut and said nothing.
If you meet someone you know, you scold him.
“Shut the fuck up! Come on! I’m sorry.
I don’t know.
We went all the way, found the housekeeper and told her what happened.
She was scared to hear about it, and she kept her hands shaking over her chest and didn’t want to come with us.
Later, the counselor came, and the housekeeper came along reluctantly.
I don’t know.
As a result, the counsellors looked at the scene and felt that it was too much, and called for leadership, leadership and greater leadership.
At the end of the day, the principal, the school clerk, the faculty clerks are here.
When the principal came, he asked us: “Did you tell anyone about this?” I’m sorry.
I shake my head.
“No, the counselor was contacted at first. I’m sorry.
Headmaster nod.
“Do it right. I’m sorry.
The headmaster then went to the dorm with the Minister of Logistics, and the faculty clerk and the school clerk took us to the corridor to start questioning.
“When did he die?” I’m sorry.
I said, “I don’t know, we slept at 11:00 last night and found him dead in the morning. I’m sorry.
“A great living man hanged by your three sides, and you didn’t notice?” I’m sorry.
One roommate replied, “We all slept so badly that we didn’t notice. I’m sorry.
“Did the three of you not like him and killed him?” I’m sorry.
When I heard that I was angry, I shouted, “Do not insult.” We had a good relationship with him! I’m sorry.
The school clerk also said to the faculty: “The old king, working with a strict attitude, can’t question the integrity of his students. I’m sorry.
Then the school secretary asked us, “He slept in his bedroom last night.” I’m sorry.
I replied: “No, we went to bed at 11:00 last night, he didn’t go back to his bedroom, we called him, we texted him, he didn’t answer, and we were worried that he might be back early tomorrow morning and the door would not be locked. I’m sorry.
After that, I’ll show the record of the conversation and the conversation to the school clerk.
The school clerk took my phone, not only read yesterday’s information, but also earlier.
But there’s nothing to look at. A couple of days of chats are all about food and water and coming back to black.
The school clerk looked at it, thought it was all right, so give me back my phone.
And then he said, “Does he have any special circumstances? I’m sorry.
And We answered: “He is not one of us, and he has no good relations with those of his own class, then he will take his medicine, the one on his table.” I’m sorry.
The clerk heard this and went into the bedroom, and came out in a minute, and she said to the school secretary, “Parocitine tablets of hydrochloric acid are antidepressants. The student is depressed. I’m sorry.
After the school clerk had listened, he seemed to have made up his mind and noded with the faculty clerk.
The clerk said, “There’s depression, it’s suicide.” I’m sorry.
The school secretary said to us, “These days, you will sleep in the guesthouse, and you will not be able to move the things in your bedroom for a while, and the police will come later and ask you what you want, as you have now.” I’m sorry.
We were surprised when we knew he was depressed, but more relieved, like he was finally getting rid of the suspicion.
I can think about it and I’m afraid.
It’s been over an hour since we found the stale remains.
He’s still hanging there. Nobody wants to put him down.
It was at this point that the headmaster and the minister of logistics came out of the bedroom, and he looked badly, looked at the secretary of the eye and asked, “Was it time to inform the comrades at the police station?” I’m sorry.
The school secretary noded, “Well, we can call, so we’ll get the surveillance, then we’ll call the cops. I’m sorry.
To be honest, when I heard this conversation, I was filled with contempt.
That’s why they say they’re out of control.
I’m afraid we’ve already deleted the surveillance. There’s nothing to show, but lies.
Subsequently, the principal, the Minister of Logistics, the Chief of Defence, the Secretary of the Faculty, the Counsellor, five people took us to the control room.
I don’t know what the other leaders are doing.
To be honest, although it’s daytime, the content of the surveillance has left an indelible impression on everyone we’re here with.
The men’s room is in the bedroom.
The leader sent the housekeeper out of our surveillance.
Then, at 2 a.m., the tummy appeared at the end of the corridor.
He went to the door of the bedroom, put his hand on the door and the picture was still.
The tube thought it had hit the pause button, but the time on the lower right side of the surveillance scene had changed.
It’s not that the picture stopped, it’s that stale.
So, the catheter pressed the fast-forward button.
Almost two minutes later, the lights in the hallway were dark, but the surveillance was night-vision, and it was still able to see the boring movement.
He hasn’t moved for five minutes.
He then dropped his hand from the door, took out his cell phone, turned it over and put it back in his pocket.
Still not in the bedroom. Turn around.
The cathedral went in the direction of the boredom and pulled out the surveillance.
And then it was weird.
The screech has been moving in the corridors of the dormitory building throughout the period between 2 and 3.
From the fifth to the third floor and from the third to the top.
Late at night, the students are asleep.
He’s like a midnight ghost. He’s white in surveillance. He wanders on every floor.
The sensor lights are dark and light, and they’re black and black.
From time to time he crouched down and cried and from time to time found a window in the middle of the stairs.
He will stand on the window table, look at the scene below, and then he will retreat back to the stairs and cry on the floor.
And in that black and white surveillance, we were watching this.
There’s a depression that can’t be said.
This surveillance is like a horror canvas that has been painted with black crayons.
Later.
In the surveillance, he went to the top floor, and after a short surveillance blind zone, he resurfaced.
This is when he goes to the wall, climbs up the fence and looks downstairs.
I can feel the urge to jump, but I can feel the fear.
He made a jump-up in place, repeatedly.
But he didn’t jump.
Maybe it’s like you’re afraid of losing your body when you crash.
The only way to see him stretch his hand out of the pocket was to take out a bundle of nylon rope, which was not carefully monitored, but the one he hanged.
Just like the rest of you, turn down and head straight for the fifth floor.
On this occasion, he came to the bedroom door without hesitation and slowly pushed the bedroom door into it.
And then he didn’t come out.
Two hours short, it’s almost seven times.
We actually see less than 15 minutes.
That’s the short 15 minutes that put everyone here in a mood.
The principal’s face is the worst, he sighs.
“Alas, there is still no mental health education for a fellow student, who has been snuggling for more than two hours and has decided to end his life. I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
“He was desperate when he decided to die. I’m sorry.
Following the police station ‘ s intervention, the incident was quickly characterized, concluding that the depression patients had committed suicide.
The school has also begun to do public relations work simultaneously.
In the course of the school, students were urged to discuss the matter.
Media schools are used outside schools to limit media coverage.
The three of us in the dormitory, after completing their statements, stopped for two days and cooperated with the police investigation.
The police did not give much attention to the matter.
They merely confirmed the identity of the depressed person, as well as his interpersonal relationship, and reportedly investigated his cell phone.
Only his cell phone had been formatted in his pocket, so the police did not find any useful information through it.
The case was closed for suicide by combining the forensic medical report.
Later, the Minister of Logistics told us, “There is no room for the time being. Pack up and move to the empty room on the third floor. I’m sorry.
“Good. I’m sorry.
The Minister of Logistics had just left and thought of something, and came back and told us: “During the search, the police found the electric wind, the hot kettle and the plane cup, and two more. I’m sorry.
As soon as I heard, I looked in the back.
Those two are frightful, they’re not very good.
I don’t use it, so I know who it belongs to.
The Minister of Logistics, who is also a clear-sighted man, said to me, “But this time you will not be punished, but you will be charged $8,000 to each of you for your food. Don’t mention this to anyone from now on. If you mention it, the money will not only be returned, but the school will drop you off immediately.” I’m sorry.
We accepted the conclusions of stifling suicides and were forced to accept school conditions.
Later, we moved to the third floor with our bags.
On the way, we saw the boring parents, two people who looked like they worked their whole life, the most common middle-aged people in the ordinary neighborhood.
I saw in their faces the grief of the middle-aged.
Good school and the police protected our identity and prevented us from meeting with boring parents. Of course, it’s just a courtesy.
The real reason is that the school didn’t allow us to meet because they were afraid we’d talk about things we shouldn’t have.
A person with depression, unable to adapt to university life, chose to give up his life in his bedroom.
So far, it’s the current version.
It’s the version everyone knows except me.
In fact, the story is not over.
This story is followed by another unknown version.
Perhaps many of you will doubt the truth after reading this version of my mouth.
But as soon as you read some news, you’ll know.
There’s a lot of horrible things going on in college.
Second update
After moving to the third floor, two weeks later, we have not recovered from the shadow of that event.
Until recently, we were afraid to turn off the lights at night.
It’s not just us. Most of the men’s beds are lighted all night.
The man who died or hung himself in his bedroom was afraid.
I don’t know.
After Friday, I took advantage of the noon break and went back to the bedroom to remove the pillowcase and prepare for cleaning.
Found a note in the pillowcase.
It says on the note that the top floor door exits the floor brick of the second ventilator. 940821.
The last time I washed the pillowcase was a month ago, there was no paper in the pillowcase.
Then I thought about it, and maybe it was stuffed in my pillow before hanging.
We did not tell the other two men for a while, except that when they were not in their bedroom, they turned over their pillowcases.
They’re not as sanitary as I am, and the pillowcase hasn’t been washed for two semesters.
Just flip it and make sure there’s nothing in it.
So I’m sure this is just for me.
It’s got an address and a list of numbers.
This number I know is his birthday.
What about this address? I decided to go see.
I went to the penthouse in the afternoon, and this place was locked up after the incident, and I was afraid that there would be another student.
It’s good that we haven’t had time to block the windows in school.
I flipped through the window and found the place on the note.
I found this position, the blind zone under surveillance.
It was a time of boredom in the blind zone.
Walking around this pillar, one piece of the brick was loose, and it came up.
Under there, on a bank card at the farm.
The card is covered in mud and it stinks.
I’ll pull the card out of the mud, grab it in my hand and run back to the bedroom.
I didn’t know if the bank card could be washed.
So you shave the mud off the bank card and wash it with a little wet tissue.
Look at this bank card and the note’s birthday.
I like it in my heart. I can tie it up.
This birthday is probably the key to the bank card.
I went to the school self-help ATM while nobody was there.
The bank card was inserted and found to be undamaged and usable.
So enter his birthday.
It’s really a password.
Click ” Check balance ” .
It’s 47,000, 700 of them.
I can’t figure out how cynics have so much money.
So this time I went to the agricultural bank outside the school and checked the bank card’s trade records at the counter.
The money was found to have been transferred to the bank for 5,000 dollars.
In addition to 10 remittances, banker Kari is living at the cost of $1,300 per month.
I know he spends $700 a month on medicines alone, leaving only $600 for his life.
It can be seen that the stutter is always cheap to eat and drink.
I looked at the transfer dates of the $5,000, which are quite regular.
They are:
17, 24 and 31 March.
7, 14, 21, 28 April.
5, 12, 19 May.
Ten remittances totalling $50,000.
It happens every other week, most recently three weeks ago.
Looking at the calendar, remittances are on Sunday.
Remittances coincided with the week when they died.
The more I feel that it’s not easy to be bored.
I’d like to find out who gave the money to the stutter.
However, account information on the sender is not available at the counter.
Bank information on the sender can only be found at the counter with his/her identity card.
Apparently, the clue is broken here.
But not completely disconnected.
Remittances are very close to the weekly hours of work.
So it’s probably about the “part-time” on weekends.
This part-time job is definitely not a tutor.
What kind of tutor makes $5,000 a week?
“Was it obnoxious to do something illegal?” I’m sorry.
That’s what I thought.
“What work makes a freshman make $5,000 a week. I’m sorry.
“Drug trafficking?” “Fraud?” “theft”? I’m sorry.
The more I think about it, the more I think about it.
I didn’t tell the other two roommates what I was investigating.
I don’t trust them.
Just don’t want the boring things to be known to more people.
Maybe it’s not good.
Don’t make his reputation worse when he’s dead.
Early in June, the first school year was almost over.
The teachers of the departments have put in place final exams, and my professional requirements are particularly stringent, so we have a bunch of kids in the bedroom.
In many cases, university homework is not necessarily self-made, and it is possible to seek help from experienced students.
To tell the truth, the three of us are not learning masters, and most of our usual homework is to ask for help.
He’s not a professional, but he’s got a lot of work done.
I can’t believe we missed him for the first time.
It’s a coincidence that I came up with a clue from this point.
Once upon a time, the boring class had classes and we didn’t have classes.
He was bored without a computer in class, but he needed a document from the computer and called me and sent it to him.
He sent me his computer unlocking code.
It’s this unlocking code that reminds me of the direction to follow.
In life, a lot of people set codes.
Now that I know the lock code for the muffled computer, it’s possible to open him through it.
With this idea, I opened the QQ, found the boring QQ and found the computer code he sent me.
I tried to log his QQ account on the phone.
The results were easily recorded.
QQQ’s information is all cloud-sync, and chat records are available.
But he was not a member and only had to keep a month of chat, but that was enough.
After reading the chat, I can’t help but lament that boredom is boring.
QQQ chatters don’t talk in class, don’t say anything, they don’t even have a little privacy.
I know, QQ. It doesn’t matter to him.
That’s why I’m going to keep my eyes on something more private.
I log in the same way.
Results.
It worked!
There are three options.
“Sweep 2D”
“Invite friends to assist with verification.”
Message Validation
It is clear that the first and third approaches are not applicable to me, and that only the second is most appropriate.
The other two of us in the bedroom, all his best friends, were able to get a good friend’s help.
So I borrowed their cell phones, and I finished the test.
The secondary records were subsequently deleted and the cell phones returned to them.
A process came down. I successfully entered him.
So even if I log him in,
If you want to see the chat, you can only use his original phone.
However, the police had already stated at the time of the investigation that the boring cell phone had been formatted.
He doesn’t have it on his phone anymore.
But I’m not discouraged, because I know his computer has landed, in addition to his cell phone.
The information should be synchronized with the computer.
The boring computer has been brought home by his parents.
To be honest, if I hadn’t been too curious to know the answer to this mystery at the time, I might have simply abandoned the search and remitted all of the bank’s money to his parents, taking that as a matter of fact.
But I didn’t. I contacted his parents as a schoolmate.
In a boring computer, there’s a file that I worked with, hoping that they can send the computer, which can be paid for, and then send it back when it’s finished.
Uncles and aunts are reasonable people.
I couldn’t wait to turn on his computer and log in his computer with a phone scan.
Him.
Not to mention the name of the account, you just need to know that it’s a contact for tutorial work.
I looked.
Girls occasionally send their own photos to stutter, and the girls in the pictures look pretty good.
Most importantly, tutoring is done every week.
Until now his…
I am beginning to realize that the extra $5,000 that banks send out every week has nothing to do with tutorial work.
I don’t know.
Keep your eyes on the road.
