Chen Ping pulled his horse to a sudden stop, squinted his eyes, and looked for the source of the sound in the sparse darkness of the night. He gently pulled the horse's head and was about to turn back.
He blinked his eyes, a look of realization appeared on his face, and he pressed down on the gray horse with his palm.
"Not leaving?"
On the dirt road that can hardly be called a road, a person walks towards us. Before the person arrives, the sound and shadow precede him.
At first it was just a silhouette, with the fluttering hem of the clothes rustling.
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