"Brother?" Meng Tingting's voice seemed to carry a chillingly demonic quality that made one's scalp tingle upon hearing it.
Meng Hang was terrified, laying under the bed, involuntarily biting the back of his right hand to keep himself from making any noise, but his whole body wouldn't stop shaking.
Meng Tingting stood in front of where he was lying for a while, then her feet began to turn as if she was preparing to look elsewhere.
Meng Hang's eyes were glued to those cotton slippers, and the intense tension and fright had caused him to break out in a cold sweat, beads of which rolled down his forehead and into his eyes.
He softly closed his eyes and wiped them slowly, then immediately reopened them.
The moment he opened his eyes, what he saw was Meng Tingting's terrifying, injured face.
"Brother!"
She had somehow squatted down, looking under the bed with a smile on her face.
