Chen Ping hugged Xiaoyou and walked for a while in the ancient city.
Xiaoyou lay on his shoulder, his little hands grabbed his clothes tightly, and his breathing gradually stabilized.
She was already asleep, with tears still hanging from the corners of her eyes, but the corners of her mouth were slightly raised, as if she was having a good dream.
Chen Ping slowed down, not wanting to wake her up.
The streets of the ancient city were narrow, the buildings on both sides were huddled together, and the walls were carved with ancient ghost runes.
Some runes were already dim, and some were still emitting faint blue light, like fireflies remaining in the darkness.
The ghost monks they met on the road all stopped and looked at Chen Ping with a complicated look.
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