Su Lin's eyes were deep and gloomy, and Xiao Tingyan's brows twitched, but he said nothing.
After all, it was Xiao Tingyun. Perhaps all children from a warlord background have a certain decisive and unbending nature, not indulging themselves too much, so Xiao Tingyun only said this much and then lowered her eyes and brow, observing the Western ritual of mourning the dead by lightly kissing Qin Yu's forehead.
Then...
Cough cough cough! The dead person's finger twitched, brushing against Xiao Tingyun's lower abdomen.
Xiao Tingyun paused, straightened up, and looked down at Qin Yu's finger. A moment later, she turned back to the two of them and asked casually, "Her finger moved. Tell me what's happening here."
There's only one situation for a dead fish to play possum—it's usually deep-fried.
