Yan Qing, just like any other day, leisurely strolled back home after leaving Xinghua Village.
Halfway down the street, he felt more and more that something was off about himself, fearing that he might step on and kill the ants under his feet, his compassionate heart truly a testament to his merciful nature.
He stopped walking, rubbed his forehead, and decided not to walk anymore, plopping down on the side of the road. Even sitting by the road, he was a little worried his rear might crush the ants on the ground.
He muttered, hand on his chest, "What's going on, I'm not usually this conscientious, it's really bizarre."
The whisper of a breeze seemed to answer him, as if saying, "You're indeed haunted."
Having resolved a major life event, Ling Hua came out of Xinghua Village and leaned against the carriage, overjoyed. She had misjudged Qin Huan and Yan Qing in the past; where were the fools? They were clearly treasures!
