Su Rong was floating around for a long time after his death. One day, he passed through the crack and floated to a certain prince's house. He looked at the colorful mandarin duck brocade tent and turned around to leave. Someone gently pulled his sleeve.
He was a small man, tied with a few chains at the end of the bed, with loose black hair. He raised his head to reveal a terrifying and haggard face, but his eyes were beautiful and clean, with a little tear like ice.
"What are you holding me for?" Su Rong asked him with a smile, not surprised at all.
"I don't know". Soft fingers hooked the corners of Wandering Soul's clothes.
"I'm leaving". Su Rong knelt down and touched his head, sighing.