Qin Zhenxuan stopped and slowly turned his head. His heartbeat did not accelerate and his breathing was not disordered - this was the result of his grandfather's training since childhood. In a small courtyard in the mountains of western Hunan, the eccentric old man taught him how to identify the twenty-eight constellations, how to calculate Qi Men Dun Jia, and how to feel the "qi" flowing between heaven and earth. The old man always said: "Zhenxuan, things in this world are not only true if they can be seen with the eyes."
Now, Qin Zhenxuan saw it.
The extra shadow was moving slowly along the bookshelf, like water seeping into the sand. There was no sound, no wind, but the books on the bookshelf began to tremble slightly, and a few thick classics on the top floor slid down and hit the floor tiles, making a dull sound.
"Ouch, who is it?" The boy with glasses who had already reached the door turned back, "Did you put the book down properly?"
