"Sleepwalking?"
Under the blazing autumn sun, the old house in Cliff City remained cool.
Tong Ting lowered his eyes, staring at the bizarre spiritual insect in his hand that fluttered but couldn't escape, and couldn't help but sigh with frustration:
"Why have there been more dramas in Cliff City these past two years than in my entire life?
It feels like humans and ghosts are here to stir up chaos..."
He paused, looking at the elderly man cooling himself by the pond: "Dad, did you choose the wrong place? Is there a problem with our family's feng shui?"
"Indeed, you've finally realized?"
Tong Yuan glanced at his unruly heir with a half-smile: "Should I help you find a favorable feng shui spot and bury you to balance things out?
I might as well give you my Chinese boxwood coffin for cheap; first come, first served."
"I was wrong—"
