The door curtain was lifted a little by a trembling hand, and the doorman guarding the side door crawled in with a pale face, not daring to get close.
"Assholes!" Sang Chengze's rage instantly found an outlet. "Instead of guarding the gate properly, you allowed that couple to act so recklessly at the front door. What are you doing here? Are you looking for death?"
"Master, please spare me!" The doorman was shaking so much that he almost fell apart. His teeth were chattering and he raised two things forward.
Sang Chengze was filled with hatred for being teased and humiliated in public, and he had no place to vent. Seeing this ignorant servant, he was even more furious and was about to kick him in anger: "Get out! It's useless--"
The following words stopped abruptly.
His eyes were fixed on the two objects that the concierge was holding high.
Something was extremely white, folded neatly into a square, glaringly white, with irregular jagged edges.
Those are small ingots folded from paper money used by the dead!
Another thing, smaller.
It was an old finger, as withered as a chicken claw. The nail was gray and black, shrunken, the skin wrinkled like dried orange peel, and the fracture was extremely rough. The irregular bone stump was an old, dried-out dark brown, clinging to a little bit of long-crusted black dirt.
The withered finger was tied with a dirty hemp rope and hung above the paper ingot. As the doorman trembled, it swayed slightly in the candlelight.
The air seemed to be suddenly sucked out.
"Master, please calm down..." The doorman's voice was shaking, and he was crying like his soul had been torn apart. "Just now when there was a commotion at the front door... someone squeezed through the crack of the side door, threw it down, and ran away..."
A layer of frost seemed to form in an instant in Sang Chengze's red eyes.
He stared at the finger and the stack of rough white paper ingots, and a chill rushed from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, instantly freezing all his rage and then shattering it.
finger……
Paper money...
Stuff it into the door crack...
A horrifying association, like a cold poisonous snake, instantly wrapped around his heart.
Could it be Old Mrs. Ge? The old ghost buried deep in the flower garden in the corner of the Sang family's old house?
Outside the door, the storm on the long street was still raging.
Inside the tightly closed Sang Mansion, the chill that penetrated deep into the bone marrow had just begun to spread.
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