In the bookstore, time flew.
Li Qingfeng knelt inside...
He saw Ye Bei walk out of the wooden door, and then the door closed again.
There was more than that.
After Ye Bei left, less than a second later, subversive changes were also taking place in the entire bookstore.
The bottomed candle that was originally hung on the roof was suddenly blown out by a gust of wind, white smoke drifted out.
The brand-new wooden table had become unbearable. It seemed that if you applied a little force, it would turn into a powder.
And the bookshelves on both sides of the room were also changing rapidly!
Every book, every detail on the bookshelf, all had been restored to their original state, even more dilapidated than their original state.
However, on the dilapidated table, a blank sheet of paper laid quietly.
On the white paper, only two words were written: Birth, Death!
With one thought, a life was born.
