"Sigh..."
"This whole thing... well, it's a long and tragic story—"
Zhu Yang was a somewhat frail-looking ghost, with dark bags under his eyes and a severe lack of vitality.
Pei Ye had recently been teaching herself physiognomy, and she noticed that this ghost seemed guilty of "lust." Not that he was being lustful right now, but rather that his death was related to lust, and his facial features had become fixed after death.
Of course, Pei Ye's physiognomy skills were just her blindly figuring things out from Zhu Chun'an's wall of books. Whether she was accurate or not was another matter. However, her intuition was spot on.
"Spit it out, and stop sighing! If it's a long story, make it short. Do you think I have all the time in the world to stay up late with you?"
Under the threat of the Peach Wood Sword, Zhu Yang didn't dare to act cheeky anymore and honestly confessed.
