In the pale blue dwelling, gradually everyone began to sit around, forming an incomplete circle... Luo Qiu's voice seemed to carry a peculiar magic.
But he just spoke as usual, and unknowingly, before everyone's eyes, appeared to slowly unfold some image-like scenes... the past of those who once lived in this corpse pit.
The girl nestled beside Norman, unknowingly hugged her knees, resting her chin, her eyes unblinking, seemingly drawn into the contents of this diary.
The words written on this unknown beast-skin diary were very fine, requiring the use of fingers to guide them line by line to avoid dizziness. Perhaps, when writing these words, the diary's owner was stooped over an oil lamp, meticulously, cherishing the moment.
His voice, like a mountain stream flowing, tinkling, tinkling.
