Director: “Yes, yes, of course, I know Sister Mei is a busy person. Let’s not waste time and start right away. The accompaniment is ready, Sister Mei, you’ll have dancers beside you while singing. The cameras will be in these positions during the performance. I sent you the timing for camera switches earlier. You’ve seen it, right?”
The woman played with her hair. “I’ve been too busy to check, but I’ll try my best to cooperate.”
The man glanced at his watch. “Nine more minutes.”
The director hesitated momentarily, then finally nodded. “Alright, let’s proceed with the rehearsal.”
Though there were only two of them, their presence was much stronger than the previous Luo Ran and his group.
The woman walked straight into the hall. As she passed the entrance, her steps paused briefly, her head tilted slightly, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to linger on where Bai Lixin and Xia Chi were.
As they watched her enter the studio, Xia Chi whispered to Bai Lixin’s ear, “Brother, should we go? It’s 7:45.”
Bai Lixin kept staring at the woman’s figure. “Let’s wait a bit longer. We’ll leave after her performance.”
Xia Chi glanced at Bai Lixin’s focused expression, opened his mouth hesitantly, paused, and then closed it.
‘Brother, you have a husband. You’re staring so intently at a beautiful woman, beware of your partner getting jealous.’
Bai Lixin didn’t notice Xia Chi’s gaze. His full attention was on the woman.
For some reason, this woman felt strange to him.
But as for what was strange, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
The once lively studio gradually quieted down as the woman arrived. Guided by the crew, she moved backstage and walked onto the stage with a microphone.
The accompaniment and dancers were in place almost within a minute.
In order to match the woman’s timing, they gave it their all.
Judging from the microphone in her hand, her performance was likely singing.
The accompaniment started and just as Bai Lixin had speculated, she indeed began to sing.
Her melodious voice was incredibly penetrating, instantly cutting through the air and filling every corner of the studio.
The distance from the door to the stage was quite far, yet Bai Lixin and Xia Chi standing at the door felt as if her singing was right by their ears, it was so clear.
The moment the music started, the studio, which had already quieted down, fell into even deeper silence. Everyone stood motionless, as if entranced, all looking up at the woman on the stage.
Bai Lixin turned his head to glance at Xia Chi and saw Xia Chi’s entranced expression, his eyes filled with admiration.
Bai Lixin: “…”
Suddenly, something happened and Xia Chi’s body twitched briefly, and his expression returned to normal.
He wrinkled his features and rubbed his head, giving Bai Lixin a somewhat aggrieved look.
Bai Lixin: “… What happened?”
“Nothing,” Xia Chi pouted, “my brain had a short circuit.”
Bai Lixin: “…”
‘Tan Yue, it’s really not easy to take care of the child.’
He looked toward the stage again, and noticed something flickering and swaying behind the woman on the stage.
Bai Lixin blinked and looked again, but the flickering object was no longer visible.
“Let’s go,” when the woman finished singing, Bai Lixin pulled the poor Xia Chi beside him, “I’m not listening anymore.”
Xia Chi held his head and shook it, obediently following behind Bai Lixin, “Okay.”
Halfway through, they suddenly heard applause from behind. Xia Chi glanced back, “Brother, that woman seems like a fox.”
Bai Lixin: “Why do you say that?”
Xia Chi: “For a moment, I got the experience of King Zhou when I looked at her. It was hazy, like seeing paradise.”
Bai Lixin: “…”
‘Let’s say a bit less, after all, our small brains can’t handle too much shock.
At this rate, Tan Yue might as well be dubbed the Thunder King.’
After walking for about several dozen meters, the environment changed. Unlike the lively studio behind them, the stairwell was pitch-black.
The sound-controlled lights gradually extinguished as they approached the stairwell, and the dim glow was like a distinct line, clearly separating the lively studio from the serene darkness of the corridor.
Xia Chi had pressed himself entirely against Bai Lixin’s side, not willing to be even a step away from him.
Both of them had taken out flashlights from their backpacks. In the overly dark stairwell, they slowly made their way down to the fourth floor.
Just halfway down, Xia Chi’s breath suddenly grew heavier. His grip on Bai Lixin’s arm tightened, and he whispered urgently, “Brother, brother, a shadow seemed to flash by just now.”
With one hand gripping the flashlight, Xia Chi tremblingly pointed in a direction.
It was the corner of the fourth-floor stairwell. Bai Lixin looked in the direction Xia Chi was pointing. In the darkness, amidst the only bit of light, he saw the distinct edges of nearby walls and the stair railing, but nothing else.
But Xia Chi’s sixth sense was always sharp. Bai Lixin became cautious and gently tugged Xia Chi to stand behind him.
“Don’t be scared, I’m here.’
They descended a couple more steps. Just as they were about to step onto the fourth-floor ground, a sound of something falling to the floor suddenly rang out.
The loud thud made Xia Chi’s face visibly change.
He instantly covered his mouth with his hand, biting his lip hard to prevent himself from making any sound.
After the sound of the fall, there followed the rustling of footsteps and the brushing of clothing.
In the darkness, the disturbance seemed to come from all directions.
Tears welled up in Xia Chi’s eyes. He pressed his hand against his throat, fearing that his mistake might cause trouble for Bai Lixin.
In the part of the corridor unseen by Xia Chi, Bai Lixin’s expression turned somewhat cold.
He shook his flashlight towards the direction of the fourth-floor stairwell, and asked in a cold voice, “Is this prank really amusing?”
The footsteps and rustling ceased abruptly.
A few seconds later, a mixture of laughter sounded, followed by a sudden beam of light. The surroundings transformed from darkness to brightness in an instant. Xia Chi instinctively closed his eyes against the onslaught of light.
Bai Lixin didn’t close his eyes, merely squinting slightly as he watched the stairwell entrance cautiously.
“Alright, alright, don’t be so upset. We just wanted to see if you guys are frauds or actually capable.”
An indifferent voice spoke, sounding quite normal.
Xia Chi tentatively opened his eyes and saw several people standing by the fourth-floor stairwell. Among them, some looked malicious, and others scrutinized them both.
Bai Lixin turned to look at Xia Chi soothingly. “Did you forget what the security guard said? There were people here before us. The prank was from them. Don’t be scared.”
Xia Chi was stunned for a moment, finally realizing that everything just now had been a prank. He was slightly annoyed by the sudden turn of events.
However, he then looked at the group of people and realized that he didn’t recognize any of them.
These people weren’t players.
At least, they weren’t players who entered with them.
At the entrance were three individuals. Two of them wore priestly attire, seemingly a pair, while the third person donned a voluminous sacrificial robe and a necklace made of wild animal teeth around their neck.
It wasn’t something supernatural, and Xia Chi wasn’t afraid anymore. After stepping out from behind Bai Lixin, he confronted the three and asked, “Who are you?’
Priest A: “Us? Can’t you tell? We’re just like you, here to exterminate evil spirits. But unlike you amateurs, we’re professionals.”
Xia Chi: “Who are you calling amateurs?”
Priest B raised the cross necklace hanging around his neck. “At least we don’t scream in fright at every little sound.”
Xia Chi’s face turned red. He bit his “ and muttered quietly, “I didn’t scream.
The girl in the sacrificial robe glared at the two priests before smiling at Bai Lixin and Xia Chi. “It’s almost 8 o’clock. You’re probably the last ones. Come join the group quickly.”
Bai Lixin and Xia Chi exchanged glances and continued walking.
The bright light from earlier had been caused by them activating the motion-sensor lights in the corridor. Studio 8 was located right by the fourth-floor stairwell, and as they walked out of the stairwell, they could directly see the iron door of Studio 8.
Bai Lixin turned towards the seemingly gentle priestess and inquired, “Have you been here for a while?”
The Priestess: “Not for long. I was the third to arrive. These two were the earliest. Pay no attention to them; even I was startled when I arrived. Whenever someone comes, these two just have to give them a little fright.”
Bai Lixin glanced at the composed priests. “How many people are here in total?’
The Priestess: “Including you, there are 8 of us.”
Bai Lixin: “8 people… When did the last person before us arrive?”
The Priestess: “About half an hour ago, I can’t remember exactly.”
Bai Lixin: “Oh, thank you.”
There was no glass in the studio’s entrance, so it was only when they pushed the iron door open that Bai Lixin and Xia Chi realized that the studio was illuminated.
Apart from the three from earlier, there were three more people inside the studio.
A man in Taoist robes, a monk in Buddhist robes, and another person dressed entirely in black attire. Judging solely from the clothing, it was hard to discern their professions.
Upon entering the studio, Bai Lixin glanced at the time in the taskbar. There were five more minutes until 8 o’clock.
The other three were each seated separately in chairs, not interacting at all.
After ushering them in, the only female priest spoke with grace, “Look, we have two more helpers.”
“Two helpers?” The Taoist smoothed his goat-beard and stood up, carefully scrutinizing Bai Lixin and Xia Chi. “You both look quite young. May I ask who your master is?”
Bai Lixin: “No master, no sect. I’m a haunted house sleep tester, and he’s my younger brother.”
“Haunted house sleep tester?” Priest A suddenly sneered, “Isn’t that a swindling profession that has cropped up in recent years? I heard you can make money by lying down. I envy you. But this isn’t the kind of small-time scavenging you’re used to. I advise you two young men to leave quickly, or you might not be able to leave later.”
Bai Lixin ignored the priest’s scornful remarks and he and Xia Chi casually found seats and sat down.
As soon as they sat down, he began to assess the room.
On the stage in the distance, a frame had fallen from overhead and landed on the stage, still not cleared away.
In addition to this, there were many shards of glass scattered on the floor. Almost all the light tubes on the stage had been shattered, except for two intact wall sconces on the sides.
For some reason, the studio was a mess, yet no one had cleaned it up, maintaining its original state.
From where he sat, Bai Lixin could vaguely see some mottled bloodstains on the stage.
“There was an accident two days ago. Someone was injured by a falling frame, and that blood is from the victim.”
As Bai Lixin focused on the bloodstains, a voice sounded in his ear.
He looked up and saw a young man in a black trench coat, who seemed to have appeared beside him out of nowhere.
Bai Lixin furrowed his brows inwardly, and without showing his suspicion, he studied the newcomer.
His hearing had always been quite good; he shouldn’t have missed someone approaching him.
Perhaps having sensed Bai Lixin’s suspicion, the young man continued, “I’m a shaman by profession. Hehe, I’m not well-regarded by them either.”
He didn’t Intentionally lower his voice and the priestess scratched his head in embarrassment upon hearing this, but he didn’t say anything.
Bai Lixin’s gaze slowly swept over the young man.
Though the young man was smiling, his smile bore an unexplainable tinge of melancholy.
He was tall, probably around 187 centimeters.
He didn’t appear very old, maybe around twenty-three or twenty-four.
Despite his youth, his eyes held a rare combination of calmness and depth typically absent in those of his age.
Though he smiled with a touch of melancholy, he also exuded a natural aura of dignity and righteousness.
Contradictory qualities seemed to coexist within this young man.
However, Bai Lixin quickly brushed off his thoughts.
Perhaps due to his profession, the young man often dealt with ghosts and spirits, which might have caused him to be enveloped in a ghostly aura.
Time passed by minute by minute. In the long and lonely wait, the monk remained with hands clasped together, reciting scriptures. The Taoist, on the other hand, was wiping his copper coin treasure sword.
The priestess held a crystal ball In her hands. Within the crystal ball, colorful lights shimmered, revealing an enigmatic vision.
The two priests sat quietly in their chairs, engaged in some form of conversation.
As for the shaman, probably because he felt excluded by the others, he naturally took a seat beside Bai Lixin and started a casual conversation with him, seemingly without any particular purpose.
While everyone else was as tense as bowstrings, the shaman seemed utterly bored, as if he was strolling in his own backyard.
“What’s your name?”
“How old are you this year?”
“How tall are you?”
“Whose songs do you enjoy listening to?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Do you prefer sweet or salty zongzi (rice dumplings)?”
One question after another was tossed by the shaman, filling the room with his somewhat noisy yet not unpleasant presence.
Bai Lixin answered each of the shaman’s questions patiently.
Perhaps influenced by the shaman’s calm demeanor, Xia Chi, who had been somewhat scared since they entered the studio, miraculously appeared much better, even joining in.
“Huh, Brother, you actually like blue.”
“What? You prefer sweet zongzi? How can zongzi be sweet? Zongzi has to be salty.”
The shaman glanced at Xia Chi, then turned to Bai Lixin again. “What a coincidence, I also like sweet zongzi. I’ve found so many similarities between us.”
“By the way, what kind of personality do you prefer in a boyfriend? Gentle and considerate, or domineering and assertive?”
Bai Lixin gave the shaman a deep look. “Who told you I like men?”
Director: “Yes, yes, of course, I know Sister Mei is a busy person. Let’s not waste time and start right away. The accompaniment is ready, Sister Mei, you’ll have dancers beside you while singing. The cameras will be in these positions during the performance. I sent you the timing for camera switches earlier. You’ve seen it, right?”
The woman played with her hair. “I’ve been too busy to check, but I’ll try my best to cooperate.”
The man glanced at his watch. “Nine more minutes.”
The director hesitated momentarily, then finally nodded. “Alright, let’s proceed with the rehearsal.”
Though there were only two of them, their presence was much stronger than the previous Luo Ran and his group.
The woman walked straight into the hall. As she passed the entrance, her steps paused briefly, her head tilted slightly, and for a moment, her gaze seemed to linger on where Bai Lixin and Xia Chi were.
As they watched her enter the studio, Xia Chi whispered to Bai Lixin’s ear, “Brother, should we go? It’s 7:45.”
Bai Lixin kept staring at the woman’s figure. “Let’s wait a bit longer. We’ll leave after her performance.”
Xia Chi glanced at Bai Lixin’s focused expression, opened his mouth hesitantly, paused, and then closed it.
‘Brother, you have a husband. You’re staring so intently at a beautiful woman, beware of your partner getting jealous.’
Bai Lixin didn’t notice Xia Chi’s gaze. His full attention was on the woman.
For some reason, this woman felt strange to him.
But as for what was strange, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
The once lively studio gradually quieted down as the woman arrived. Guided by the crew, she moved backstage and walked onto the stage with a microphone.
The accompaniment and dancers were in place almost within a minute.
In order to match the woman’s timing, they gave it their all.
Judging from the microphone in her hand, her performance was likely singing.
The accompaniment started and just as Bai Lixin had speculated, she indeed began to sing.
Her melodious voice was incredibly penetrating, instantly cutting through the air and filling every corner of the studio.
The distance from the door to the stage was quite far, yet Bai Lixin and Xia Chi standing at the door felt as if her singing was right by their ears, it was so clear.
The moment the music started, the studio, which had already quieted down, fell into even deeper silence. Everyone stood motionless, as if entranced, all looking up at the woman on the stage.
Bai Lixin turned his head to glance at Xia Chi and saw Xia Chi’s entranced expression, his eyes filled with admiration.
Bai Lixin: “…”
Suddenly, something happened and Xia Chi’s body twitched briefly, and his expression returned to normal.
He wrinkled his features and rubbed his head, giving Bai Lixin a somewhat aggrieved look.
Bai Lixin: “… What happened?”
“Nothing,” Xia Chi pouted, “my brain had a short circuit.”
Bai Lixin: “…”
‘Tan Yue, it’s really not easy to take care of the child.’
He looked toward the stage again, and noticed something flickering and swaying behind the woman on the stage.
Bai Lixin blinked and looked again, but the flickering object was no longer visible.
“Let’s go,” when the woman finished singing, Bai Lixin pulled the poor Xia Chi beside him, “I’m not listening anymore.”
Xia Chi held his head and shook it, obediently following behind Bai Lixin, “Okay.”
Halfway through, they suddenly heard applause from behind. Xia Chi glanced back, “Brother, that woman seems like a fox.”
Bai Lixin: “Why do you say that?”
Xia Chi: “For a moment, I got the experience of King Zhou when I looked at her. It was hazy, like seeing paradise.”
Bai Lixin: “…”
‘Let’s say a bit less, after all, our small brains can’t handle too much shock.
At this rate, Tan Yue might as well be dubbed the Thunder King.’
After walking for about several dozen meters, the environment changed. Unlike the lively studio behind them, the stairwell was pitch-black.
The sound-controlled lights gradually extinguished as they approached the stairwell, and the dim glow was like a distinct line, clearly separating the lively studio from the serene darkness of the corridor.
Xia Chi had pressed himself entirely against Bai Lixin’s side, not willing to be even a step away from him.
Both of them had taken out flashlights from their backpacks. In the overly dark stairwell, they slowly made their way down to the fourth floor.
Just halfway down, Xia Chi’s breath suddenly grew heavier. His grip on Bai Lixin’s arm tightened, and he whispered urgently, “Brother, brother, a shadow seemed to flash by just now.”
With one hand gripping the flashlight, Xia Chi tremblingly pointed in a direction.
It was the corner of the fourth-floor stairwell. Bai Lixin looked in the direction Xia Chi was pointing. In the darkness, amidst the only bit of light, he saw the distinct edges of nearby walls and the stair railing, but nothing else.
But Xia Chi’s sixth sense was always sharp. Bai Lixin became cautious and gently tugged Xia Chi to stand behind him.
“Don’t be scared, I’m here.’
They descended a couple more steps. Just as they were about to step onto the fourth-floor ground, a sound of something falling to the floor suddenly rang out.
The loud thud made Xia Chi’s face visibly change.
He instantly covered his mouth with his hand, biting his lip hard to prevent himself from making any sound.
After the sound of the fall, there followed the rustling of footsteps and the brushing of clothing.
In the darkness, the disturbance seemed to come from all directions.
Tears welled up in Xia Chi’s eyes. He pressed his hand against his throat, fearing that his mistake might cause trouble for Bai Lixin.
In the part of the corridor unseen by Xia Chi, Bai Lixin’s expression turned somewhat cold.
He shook his flashlight towards the direction of the fourth-floor stairwell, and asked in a cold voice, “Is this prank really amusing?”
The footsteps and rustling ceased abruptly.
A few seconds later, a mixture of laughter sounded, followed by a sudden beam of light. The surroundings transformed from darkness to brightness in an instant. Xia Chi instinctively closed his eyes against the onslaught of light.
Bai Lixin didn’t close his eyes, merely squinting slightly as he watched the stairwell entrance cautiously.
“Alright, alright, don’t be so upset. We just wanted to see if you guys are frauds or actually capable.”
An indifferent voice spoke, sounding quite normal.
Xia Chi tentatively opened his eyes and saw several people standing by the fourth-floor stairwell. Among them, some looked malicious, and others scrutinized them both.
Bai Lixin turned to look at Xia Chi soothingly. “Did you forget what the security guard said? There were people here before us. The prank was from them. Don’t be scared.”
Xia Chi was stunned for a moment, finally realizing that everything just now had been a prank. He was slightly annoyed by the sudden turn of events.
However, he then looked at the group of people and realized that he didn’t recognize any of them.
These people weren’t players.
At least, they weren’t players who entered with them.
At the entrance were three individuals. Two of them wore priestly attire, seemingly a pair, while the third person donned a voluminous sacrificial robe and a necklace made of wild animal teeth around their neck.
It wasn’t something supernatural, and Xia Chi wasn’t afraid anymore. After stepping out from behind Bai Lixin, he confronted the three and asked, “Who are you?’
Priest A: “Us? Can’t you tell? We’re just like you, here to exterminate evil spirits. But unlike you amateurs, we’re professionals.”
Xia Chi: “Who are you calling amateurs?”
Priest B raised the cross necklace hanging around his neck. “At least we don’t scream in fright at every little sound.”
Xia Chi’s face turned red. He bit his “ and muttered quietly, “I didn’t scream.
The girl in the sacrificial robe glared at the two priests before smiling at Bai Lixin and Xia Chi. “It’s almost 8 o’clock. You’re probably the last ones. Come join the group quickly.”
Bai Lixin and Xia Chi exchanged glances and continued walking.
The bright light from earlier had been caused by them activating the motion-sensor lights in the corridor. Studio 8 was located right by the fourth-floor stairwell, and as they walked out of the stairwell, they could directly see the iron door of Studio 8.
Bai Lixin turned towards the seemingly gentle priestess and inquired, “Have you been here for a while?”
The Priestess: “Not for long. I was the third to arrive. These two were the earliest. Pay no attention to them; even I was startled when I arrived. Whenever someone comes, these two just have to give them a little fright.”
Bai Lixin glanced at the composed priests. “How many people are here in total?’
The Priestess: “Including you, there are 8 of us.”
Bai Lixin: “8 people… When did the last person before us arrive?”
The Priestess: “About half an hour ago, I can’t remember exactly.”
Bai Lixin: “Oh, thank you.”
There was no glass in the studio’s entrance, so it was only when they pushed the iron door open that Bai Lixin and Xia Chi realized that the studio was illuminated.
Apart from the three from earlier, there were three more people inside the studio.
A man in Taoist robes, a monk in Buddhist robes, and another person dressed entirely in black attire. Judging solely from the clothing, it was hard to discern their professions.
Upon entering the studio, Bai Lixin glanced at the time in the taskbar. There were five more minutes until 8 o’clock.
The other three were each seated separately in chairs, not interacting at all.
After ushering them in, the only female priest spoke with grace, “Look, we have two more helpers.”
“Two helpers?” The Taoist smoothed his goat-beard and stood up, carefully scrutinizing Bai Lixin and Xia Chi. “You both look quite young. May I ask who your master is?”
Bai Lixin: “No master, no sect. I’m a haunted house sleep tester, and he’s my younger brother.”
“Haunted house sleep tester?” Priest A suddenly sneered, “Isn’t that a swindling profession that has cropped up in recent years? I heard you can make money by lying down. I envy you. But this isn’t the kind of small-time scavenging you’re used to. I advise you two young men to leave quickly, or you might not be able to leave later.”
Bai Lixin ignored the priest’s scornful remarks and he and Xia Chi casually found seats and sat down.
As soon as they sat down, he began to assess the room.
On the stage in the distance, a frame had fallen from overhead and landed on the stage, still not cleared away.
In addition to this, there were many shards of glass scattered on the floor. Almost all the light tubes on the stage had been shattered, except for two intact wall sconces on the sides.
For some reason, the studio was a mess, yet no one had cleaned it up, maintaining its original state.
From where he sat, Bai Lixin could vaguely see some mottled bloodstains on the stage.
“There was an accident two days ago. Someone was injured by a falling frame, and that blood is from the victim.”
As Bai Lixin focused on the bloodstains, a voice sounded in his ear.
He looked up and saw a young man in a black trench coat, who seemed to have appeared beside him out of nowhere.
Bai Lixin furrowed his brows inwardly, and without showing his suspicion, he studied the newcomer.
His hearing had always been quite good; he shouldn’t have missed someone approaching him.
Perhaps having sensed Bai Lixin’s suspicion, the young man continued, “I’m a shaman by profession. Hehe, I’m not well-regarded by them either.”
He didn’t Intentionally lower his voice and the priestess scratched his head in embarrassment upon hearing this, but he didn’t say anything.
Bai Lixin’s gaze slowly swept over the young man.
Though the young man was smiling, his smile bore an unexplainable tinge of melancholy.
He was tall, probably around 187 centimeters.
He didn’t appear very old, maybe around twenty-three or twenty-four.
Despite his youth, his eyes held a rare combination of calmness and depth typically absent in those of his age.
Though he smiled with a touch of melancholy, he also exuded a natural aura of dignity and righteousness.
Contradictory qualities seemed to coexist within this young man.
However, Bai Lixin quickly brushed off his thoughts.
Perhaps due to his profession, the young man often dealt with ghosts and spirits, which might have caused him to be enveloped in a ghostly aura.
Time passed by minute by minute. In the long and lonely wait, the monk remained with hands clasped together, reciting scriptures. The Taoist, on the other hand, was wiping his copper coin treasure sword.
The priestess held a crystal ball In her hands. Within the crystal ball, colorful lights shimmered, revealing an enigmatic vision.
The two priests sat quietly in their chairs, engaged in some form of conversation.
As for the shaman, probably because he felt excluded by the others, he naturally took a seat beside Bai Lixin and started a casual conversation with him, seemingly without any particular purpose.
While everyone else was as tense as bowstrings, the shaman seemed utterly bored, as if he was strolling in his own backyard.
“What’s your name?”
“How old are you this year?”
“How tall are you?”
“Whose songs do you enjoy listening to?”
“What’s your favorite color?”
“Do you prefer sweet or salty zongzi (rice dumplings)?”
One question after another was tossed by the shaman, filling the room with his somewhat noisy yet not unpleasant presence.
Bai Lixin answered each of the shaman’s questions patiently.
Perhaps influenced by the shaman’s calm demeanor, Xia Chi, who had been somewhat scared since they entered the studio, miraculously appeared much better, even joining in.
“Huh, Brother, you actually like blue.”
“What? You prefer sweet zongzi? How can zongzi be sweet? Zongzi has to be salty.”
The shaman glanced at Xia Chi, then turned to Bai Lixin again. “What a coincidence, I also like sweet zongzi. I’ve found so many similarities between us.”
“By the way, what kind of personality do you prefer in a boyfriend? Gentle and considerate, or domineering and assertive?”
Bai Lixin gave the shaman a deep look. “Who told you I like men?”
