Lookout stage.
The night dew hangs heavily on the eaves, but not a single drop falls. The passing ghost glanced at it and turned away. He is probably another idiot with a lot of obsessions.
The pretty woman, with her hair combed in the fashionable style of the era, was wrapped in a cheongsam embroidered with exquisite colors, her back straight, her eyes looking at the distance of the Wangxiang Terrace, crying or laughing.
The ghost holding the chain was shadowy behind him, but he didn't get close.
Dull footsteps came in the air. The old woman had a withered face and a pair of eyes as bright as autumn water. This was Po Meng.
Po Meng came closer, her voice soaked in the water of Wangchuan River, reflecting the vicissitudes of life for thousands of years. "Miss Ronghua."
The woman smiled, her face was as pale as a flower. At first glance, she turned out to be Rong Hua, the eldest daughter of the Rong family who died in a car crash that day. "Mother-in-law must have been waiting for a long time. It was Ronghua's obsession that made it difficult for her."
"No problem."