"Dear, thank you. You're so kind."
Shen Zhiyao asked as usual, "Cao Guifang, what do you wish to have divined?"
A flash of surprise crossed Cao Guifang's eyes. "How did you know my name? It seems you really do have some skills."
Beads of cold sweat trickled down Wang Fugui's forehead. He was suffering in silence.
Inside and outside the phone, one human and one ghost; one dared to ask, and the other dared to answer.
And he was stuck right in the middle, unable to run and unable to stay.
"I want to ask when my husband will return. I've waited for him for over seventy years, but even until the day I died, I never saw him come back."
In this eerie atmosphere, Cao Guifang began to tell her story.
She and her husband went to school together and grew up together, and they had always been very close. When they were 22, they both dedicated themselves to the national defense effort.
They conducted research together and discussed academic problems, which made their bond even stronger.
