Song qingxiao's soul seemed to be floating in the air. The next moment, she was pulled forcefully into a slow body.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the temple on the barren mountain.
There was no Buddha's light around, nor were there any traveling merchants.
It was daytime, and there were dilapidated shops on both sides of the road. A tall and thin woman stood in front of her.
The woman was in her forties. Her two cheekbones pushed up her thin face, giving her a harsh look.
Her face drooped, and two long lines appeared on both sides of her nose, but she forced a smile.
"It's as if he's lost his soul, he didn't even respond to me even after I called him a few times."
She had one hand on her waist and the other on song qingxiao's arm.
The woman was quite strong. She almost lifted song qingxiao up with one hand.
The fingers pinched her flesh, and it hurt.
