Three days later, it was approaching dusk.
Chen Hong was carrying a small basket woven from willow branches and was talking to Jiang Wen Zheng beside her with a sweet smile.
The man and the ghost walked hand in hand slowly back to the lake. The breeze blew, ruffling Chen Hong's hair.
They had been stuck in the red-clothed ghost's space for too long, and it was rare for Ethan Li to have time to recuperate these few days, so the two of them would go out for a walk from time to time.
Ethan Li glanced at the basket out of the corner of his eye.
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