Due to the significant implications and to avoid alerting the suspect, Kou Xiangxin's case is currently kept confidential, with the only public statement being that he is ill and recuperating.
The internet is never short of new things, and online public opinion storms rise and fall one after another. Before Kou Xiangxin's gossip could ferment, it was quickly overshadowed by the sex scandal of a certain popular young actor.
On the fifth day of resting at home, Nan Xian received the task card for the latest episode of "Unveiling Ghost Stories".
She couldn't help but laugh after reading just the first line.
The recording location for this episode was surprisingly—Qingcheng.
She shook the task card, lost in thought: How many times had she heard those two words in just half a month?
A mysterious cross-dressing man conjured a map of Qingcheng using smoke; Kou Xiangxin drove alone to Qingcheng late at night; and then received another assignment to go to Qingcheng...
Is it a coincidence?
In the past, she would never have paid attention to these details, but since she came into contact with metaphysics, she dared not ignore anything unusual.
“Something’s not right here…” she murmured to herself as she got up and walked to the French windows.
The steam rising from the ceramic cup enveloped her face, her delicate features blending into the warm orange glow. Her pupils, like ink dots, reflected the dazzling night view outside the window.
As night deepens, the bustling city falls asleep, with only a few scattered lights still shining, patiently waiting for those returning home late.
Suddenly a gust of wind arose, rustling the leaves. A nightingale nimbly flew out from among the leaves, crossed the dark street, skimmed over the calm lake, and finally folded its wings, landing lightly on someone's shoulder.
The man stood under an off streetlamp, his black hair, hat, and clothes concealing his black hair. He remained motionless, almost blending into the night.
A wide brim of a hat obscured her face, long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, and she slowly raised her head—
Only her snow-white chin and extremely pale lips were visible.
Just below the lips, in that slight indentation, lies a cinnabar mole.
Like blood falling on white frost, dazzlingly bright.
The nightingale chirped and occasionally flapped its wings, seemingly trying to imitate some movements.
The man tilted his head slightly, revealing half of his high, straight nose tip under the brim of his hat; its shape was almost perfect.
After listening attentively, he let out a few low laughs from his chest.
The sound was extremely clear, like a summer day hidden deep in the mountains, where you could scoop up a handful of cool spring water and listen to the tinkling music as it splashed into the stream.
Even the nightingale was instantly bewitched by the laughter, staring intently at the person in front of her, her small black bean-like eyes practically bubbling with pink heart-shaped bubbles.
The laughter stopped abruptly. With a slight lift of her hand, she used two snow-white fingers to flick the infatuated nightingale off her shoulder without any hesitation.
"Chirp chirp chirp!" The little nightingale fell to the ground with a thud, its head covered in tiny stars, looking utterly dejected as it spread out like a bird pancake.
The man turned around without looking back and walked away.
"Chirp chirp chirp!" The little nightingale immediately deflated when her attempts to charm her failed.
Hmph, a good bird doesn't fight with a bad fox!
It puckered its lips, sprang up from the ground with a thud, flapped its wings on its rump, and followed with its thin little legs.
The streetlights flickered a few times before returning to brightness.
The light fell on the person, casting a small shadow.
It has erect ears, a pointed snout, long limbs, and a bushy tail.
It clearly resembled a fox.
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