The Heartthrob Becomes An NPC In the Supernatural Live Broadcast

He was wearing an outdated, gray lining with a loose V-neck, revealing the slashes and seams on his neck, and he held a gleaming knife in his hand, as if his head would be cut off if he moved.

When the ghost in the painting appeared, the paint people held their faces and said, "Young master is here."

"Call me His Royal Highness!" The ghost in the painting kicked a paint man, grinding his teeth.

The paint rubbed against him, he reached out and rubbed it, then picked up the paintbrush.

In the eyes of the paint man's nympho, he planned to fill the faceless painting.

On the other hand, Sunanzhi looked a little dazed.

After facing each other face to face, he could see even more that the eyebrows and eyes of the ghost in the painting were somewhat similar to his own.

Delicate brows, soft contours.

It's just that the other party's eyes are sharp and stubborn, and he is always proud and unyielding.

Coupled with the attitude of opening his mouth, it seems that he is a little sick.

Looking at that face, Sunanzhi felt uncomfortable.

He had to admit that the gentle adoptive father might not love him.

Otherwise why kill him?

Why did he find a child similar to him so quickly?

He couldn't stand the grievance, and with the last trace of luck, he asked, "Are you the child brought back by the foster father?"

"…Um."

The other party was dipped in bright red paint, little by little on the faceless painting.

He grinned, lowered his head, and covered his cheeks with black hair: "Face...I like your face."

Little by little, I drew Su Nanzhi's face on the pale paper.

But no matter how you paint, there is no way to achieve perfection.

The beauty of Sunanzhi cannot be drawn.

His beauty should not belong to painting, but to the grand world.

The ghost in the painting was trembling all over, and seemed very dissatisfied with it.

Why is there such a beautiful, yet indescribable face in the world?

The ghost in the painting stared at the young man, the young man lowered his head, his slender shoulders trembled slightly, as if he hated him.

Thinking of this, the knife in his hand clenched slowly.

Whee.

Since I can't draw it.

Then cut off his face.

Just like that perverted righteous-Father did to him.

"Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!"

He stabbed the painting with a knife and slowly raised his head with a wanton smile on his face.

"…I need to…"

Before he finished speaking, the person in front of him burst into tears.

"Ah woo woo..."

He shrunk his little soft body and twitched, trying not to let himself cry.

The knife in the ghost's hand in the painting unconsciously puts down.

An unprecedented sense of panic swept over him, the ghost in the painting dropped the knife, and the glass ball prosthetic eyes stared at the boy.

As if he stared at the boy countless times.

It is no longer a deadly scene, the young man is alive in front of him, his frowning and breathing are so vivid, and even crying makes people...the heart softens, and it starts beating wildly again.

He swallowed, and there was a fire in his pupils.

"You, you... why are you crying?"

I haven't spoken normally for too long, and the ghost's vocal cords are hoarse.

He looked nervous, and his eyes never left the boy.

The teenager curled up on the snow-white goose down bed, with one foot on the side of the bed, snow-white socks piled at the ankle, and slender and white calves upward.

The almond eyes contained spring-like tears that fell silently, clack-clack, and the tip of the nose and the end of the eyes were dyed a pretty water-red color.

Being watched by such a pair of tearful eyes, the other party was wrapped tightly around his body in a turbulent mood.

The young man is pampering a ghost, and he is also mourning himself.

The ghost in the painting instantly remembered.

He once came here with the idea of ​​"getting happiness".

He also thought he was "His Royal Highness".

But when the sweet hotbed turns into a poisonous snake spitting out letters, happiness is broken.

All this was experienced by the real little prince in front of him.

But he became a weak little ghost, and it was not until many years later that he completed the truth from the fragments of right and wrong.

his little prince.

Falling muddy, not stained with fine dust.

The ghost's eyes in the painting sank and walked slowly over.

Inexperienced paint people twitter.

"Prince, Your Royal Highness."

"It's not finished yet..."

"You have to paint our faces!"

"Hold up His Royal Highness, don't let him leave!"

At this time, the paint man suddenly rebelled, holding the brush next to him, and aiming at the ghost in the painting.

This group of little things are only as high as arms, and because they have no faces, they look ridiculous.

"...Things that are not afraid of death!" The ghost in the painting kicked one.

The few remaining paint people shivered, hugged into a ball, and burst into tears: "Wow, woohoo, His Royal Highness!"

The system covered its mouth and didn't let itself cry: "Frighten the group NPCs! Host, does such an awesome host exist? Wow, host, you are amazing, you actually unlocked the fairy tale package in the mall! Note: fairy tale Packages can only sell players.”

Sunanzhi:…

How can this atmosphere value be the same as the seeds in the ground, and they grow up by themselves?

Without waiting for Sunanzhi to think about it, the ghost in the painting walked up to him, condescendingly, with deep eyes.

"It's not His Royal Highness!" The ghost in the painting knelt down on one knee, looked at Su Nanzhi, and said, "He is His Royal Highness."

His eyes were bright, like a star falling into the darkness: "My Prince."

He reached out a hand and gently grasped the other's ankle.

Sunanzhi's ankles are fair and translucent, and the ankle bones are clearly embossed.

The ankle bone was piled with socks and wrapped around the slender calf.

In the painting, the ghost slowly pulls up his socks and rubs his belly against his skin.

The pure white socks outline the beautiful outline of the calf, hold the calf with a big hand, and apply light force, you can see that the end of the boy's eyes are red and tears are swirling in his eyes.

"You look so beautiful when you cry," whispered the ghost in the painting, her brush-like lashes drooping down, casting a shadow on her cheeks, which covered the crimson on her dead white cheeks.

Pale's big hands pinched the opponent's waist, and the ghost in the painting picked him up.

The paint people probed their brains one after another, and a "?" appeared directly on Haobai's face.

"Are you going to paint us faces?"

"I want a nice face too!"

"Hey... went to the mirror? Don't you paint your face?"

Pigment Man's expression changed to a "T-T".

A thick cashmere blanket lay in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror.

The rose pattern hovered on the floor-to-ceiling mirror, reflecting the entangled two people in front of him.

Sunanzhi's eyes were red, and the ghost in the painting grabbed her waist from behind.

The wet eyelashes were dripping with water droplets, and from the tip of the ear to the nose, a watercolor-like red was evenly scattered.

Her legs were sunken in cashmere, her skin was as white as jade, her bent knees were slightly pink.

The ghost in the painting reaches out and grabs his chin, forcing him to look at the mirror.

"My little prince, do you know why your adoptive father wanted to kill you?"

The person in the mirror had tears in his almond eyes, trembling pupils, and pale lips.

For Sunanzhi, his adoptive father, housekeeper, and neighbor brothers are his only relatives.

For more than ten years living in the castle, he has been very happy.

Even if he couldn't leave the castle and looked at the same sky every day, he was still very happy.

He thought that when he was 18 years old, he could go and see the outside world.

But he didn't expect that on his birthday, he was killed by his adoptive father.

He trembled and replied, "Why, why?"

He wanted to know, and he was afraid to know.

Tears rolled down his cheeks, and hot tears fell on the fingers of the ghost in the painting.

The ghost in the painting pursed his lips and flaps. He pinched Su Nanzhi's chin and made him tilt his head to look at himself.

"It hurts, it hurts so much..." Tears overflowed from Sunanzhi's eyes, her eyelashes were wet.

In the painting, the ghost stretched out his tongue and head, licking and licking his fragility.

Tears could not taste the taste, but it drove him crazy.

"Because...he's afraid of you growing up, he's afraid of losing your beautiful face, and wants to keep you at 18 forever...what a romantic reason."

Do not.

Not at all romantic.

It's like some kind of illness.

Su Nanzhi was pinched on his chin by the big hand like the ghost pincers in the painting, and the pain made him cry.

Hearing the words of the ghost in the painting, he felt uncomfortable.

Happiness is like a bubble that bursts when it sees light.

From his wet eyes, he saw the ghost's face in the painting, and asked, "What about you? Did the adoptive father kill you for the same reason?"

Mentioning himself, the ghost in the painting suddenly stopped talking.

He stroked Su Nanzhi's cheek with his fingers and slowly stopped at the almost invisible Adam's apple.

"...Why are you so beautiful?"

He could hardly restrain his desire for the other person.

Want to watch him, let him stay here forever.

Always accompany yourself in hell.

He didn't want to kill him.

Killing is the lowest form of plunder.

And more advanced is...

Love.

The ghost in the painting is pinching the hand of the other person's waist, gradually exerting force, and then he proposes an idea: "Don't you like it here? Then stay with me forever."

"Do you like heads, roses, blood, paint people?"

"It doesn't matter if you don't like it, I'll draw you whatever you want."

Sunanzhi groaned out a few words: "...I want to eat ice cream with a smiley face on it."

In the painting, the ghost let go of him, picked up the pen and drew on the paper, drawing a dark circle.

Then the painted thing jumped out.

It was darkly attached to Sunanzhi's forehead, trying to devour him.

The paint man held his face and turned into the cry of Van Gogh one by one.

"Ah, it's going to be eaten."

"Good face was eaten!"

"Ah woo woo!"

"Oops!" Su Nanzhi pulled the things off her face, with tears in her eyes: "This is not ice cream."

"Impossible!" The ghost in the painting was furious. His personality was uncertain. After being denied by Su Nanzhi, the whole ghost became irritable.

"How can I not draw well! It must be you, you despise me! You don't want to stay here!"

His whole face turned hideous: "My prince, where do you want to stay if you don't stay here?!"

He picked up the cold knife on the ground again and tilted his head.

The smile on his face gradually cracked, and his pupils were pitch black.

"You want to follow others? No, you can only be with me!"

"you are mine!"

"You can only be mine!"

The cold knife reflects the ghost's face in the painting—

Countless struggling souls swayed and roared.

"be mine!"

"be mine!"

"It's ours, my dear prince!"

Sunanzhi took a step back and kicked a paint man with her heel.

The Pigman made an "Ouch", and the faceless villain suddenly bared his teeth and hugged his feet.

"Ah!" Before Su Nanzhi could react, the other paint villains rushed up and held his hands and feet.

The fused paint people turned into a cross and stood up.

And the icy tip of the knife was facing Sunanzhi's heart.