A rotting corpse hung at the door, the sound of high heels pacing back and forth could be heard from the ceiling above, a pair of scarlet eyes squeezed out of the wall behind him, the faucet in the bathroom in the distance kept ticking, and water-stained footprints appeared on the floor, slowly approaching. Mo Yuan huddled in the corner with glutinous rice in his left hand and a kitchen knife in his right hand, the intercom in his hand just turned on. "Boss! Are you serious about coming to your secret room?!"
Determination: If you don't ask gods and Buddhas to save me, if you don't believe, my fate is not up to me.