Two minutes later.
Tang Jin clutched her little dust whisk, her footsteps steady.
A big boy followed behind her, slightly plump, trying to shrink himself behind the small body of Tang Jin.
He poked his head out, his eyes half-closed, "I'm not scared, really. I'm just staying behind so if we encounter something even you can't deal with, I can grab you and run upstairs—"
His voice was soft, cowardly, and trembling.
The psychological shadow was especially strong. Even after resting for a week, any little noise or movement would send him into a panic.
Tang Jin, tilting her little head, didn't scare him anymore; she patted his soft hair, speaking with a milky voice earnestly.
This little soft, docile creature was trying to give someone the biggest sense of security possible.
"Don't be scared, brother. Trust in Jinjin, nothing will happen."
