Feeling of suffocation.
A strong smell of rotten wood and fresh earth filled the nostrils roughly.
Shen Zhiwei's eyelids twitched suddenly.
What kind of international joke are you kidding?
Wasn't she staying up late studying an old compass from Panjiayuan that was said to be from the Ming Dynasty in her Feng Shui studio? How come... Here?
She tried moving her fingers, but they felt cold and rough. It's some kind of twine. His hands were tied behind his back, and there was a burning pain in his wrists.
Unable to move.
The space was so small that my knees almost touched my chin. The surroundings were dark and dead, except for the sound of her own heartbeat, like a war drum being beaten urgently.
This is a box.
A... Box for people.
For a moment.
A ridiculous and terrifying word struck into her mind like lightning.
Coffin.
She traveled through time.
Moreover, the beginning is the hell difficulty - buried alive.
"Sister, you can go in peace... It's all my fault, sister, for not discovering that you were possessed by evil spirits earlier, and now you end up like this... Ah..."
A woman's voice came faintly through the thick wooden boards. The voice contained a deliberately suppressed cry, and every word was like poison wrapped in honey, so sweet it made people want to vomit.
So fake.
The corners of Shen Zhiwei's mouth curled into a sarcastic arc silently. As a 21st century psychological counselor and Feng Shui practitioner who specializes in "abnormal phenomenon research", she has heard more "sincere confessions" than this woman has eaten. This level of performance is not even as good as the beggar singing at the door of her studio.
