"Thud," the wooden mallet fell from his hand.
The room was engulfed in an indescribable, almost suffocating silence again. After a seemingly endless pause, Zuo Tian's hoarse voice gravely said, "Zuo Heng has long been dead, buried underground with only that golden head accompanying him."
"..."
"You saw everything."
"..."
"Even if, even if he were still alive, he would be of no value, wouldn't he?"
After saying these words, he shut his mouth tightly and bent down to pick up the wooden mallet on the ground. He originally thought Lu Xiao would have something more to say, but when he finished and sat upright, he only felt a gust of wind blowing from behind.
Zuo Tian slowly turned his head to see a green skirt flicker outside the door and then vanish.
Lu Xiao had already left the room.
