Aunt Hong's tears streamed down her face, her lips trembling, and her cloudy eyes were red.
He stood up, wiped the tears from his face with his wide sleeves, and took Liang Meng to the inner room.
Liang Meng walked into the inner room and was so shocked by the book on the bed that his eyes almost popped out of his head. He felt like he was struck by lightning.
"This... this is a pillow book? How... how is this possible?"
Liang Meng walked towards the bed while speaking. Lying on the bed was a person who had nothing to do with a pillow book.
Zhenshu's fair face was now charred black, as if scorched by a fire. His body seemed to have been drained of all its energy, shriveled and extremely dry.
Only a thin layer of charred skin wrinkled around the delicate bones.
There was no movement in his chest, and he looked more like a charred mummy than a human being.
In Liang Meng's mind, the pillow book was still the arrogant young man who looked at you with his beautiful eyes and ignored you. She never expected that he would become the unbearable look he is now.
"The pillow book...what's going on?" Liang Meng's voice was trembling, and there was moisture in her eyes.
Aunt Hong invited Liang Meng to the living room and asked her to sit on a chair. Chuanqi stood behind Liang Meng, and like Liang Meng, his face was also solemn.
Aunt Hong sat in the chair beside Liang Meng, lowered her head and calmed herself for a long time before speaking.
Liang Meng turned to face Aunt Hong, crossed her arms on the table, and stared at Aunt Hong without blinking.
His anxious mood was written all over his face.
The story began two days ago, when Zhenshu and Hongyi left Yunmeng Hall.
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