Gu Jian rubbed one of his temples with his left hand. His temples were throbbing, and he had a bad feeling.
"Then what's a substitute?" Madam Wang asked again in a low voice.
There was something wrong with the word "substitute". Moreover, from Gu Yanfei's words, this matter seemed to involve the art of "borrowing luck".
"If you ask me, who should I ask?" Gu Jian became even more impatient and frowned.
The couple looked at each other face to face. At this moment, when they recalled the scenes in the ancestral hall, they felt a little terrified.
"Creak!"
A cold wind suddenly blew open the window, startling Madam Wang so much that she almost jumped up.
The wind was especially strong today, making the trees in the courtyard look like they were about to break in half. It also made Butler Zhou's wife's face turn red from the cold.
