Late at night when the rain was pouring, Gu Xun huddled behind the trash can, feeling a burning pain from the wound on his left shoulder. Master Lin Shouzhuo's gentle but creepy call came from the alley. Half an hour ago, under the dim light of the archives room, the master's kind face suddenly turned cold, and he pointed the memory extractor at his temple. The heavy rain hit the bluestone slabs, and the splashes mixed with blood flowed deep into the alley. Gu Xun was huddled behind the trash can. The wound on his left shoulder was burning with pain. The rain seeping into it felt like countless needles were pricking it. He gritted his teeth and did not dare to make a sound. The sound of footsteps came from the alley, very light, but every step stepped on his heartbeat. Xiaoxun, stop hiding. The voice was gentle and gentle, with Master's usual kind tone. Go back with Master and let's talk carefully.
