Li Changzhou attentively finished reading the museum regulations.
"Shh," he raised his index finger to his lips, "No loud noises."
"Ah!"
The security guard let out a shrill scream, turned to run, and because the floor was slippery, he took a fall.
"What's going on?" not just the staff, but also some elegantly dressed people, crowded around.
Everyone gasped, before them was a blurry human figure that seemed like a historical remnant walking out from the museum's antiquities.
The indistinct figure seemed like an ordinary tourist, strolling and appreciating the exhibits inside the museum.
Some swallowed their saliva, some took deep breaths, some were too scared to move, some quietly slipped away, as if they had seen a ghost, not wanting to disturb it.
In one photo, Li Xinghua was raggedly dressed, holding a broken gun, with a wild laugh on his face, and not yet a beard; he was just starting out as a bandit.
