"Auntie, don't cry," Mo Qingyi took out a tissue from her pocket to wipe the tears from the woman's eyes.
A cold gust of wind blew by, 'whoosh whoosh whoosh—' knocking all the flyers out of the middle-aged woman's hands to the ground.
Hundreds of white sheets danced in mid-air, intertwining with each other, as the wind 'whoo whoo' howled through the air.
Whirling up the dust from the ground.
It was like a scene from a horror movie, gloomy and terrifying.
Even more eerie was that on this road, aside from Chu Jin, Mo Qingyi, and this middle-aged woman, there was no one else passing by.
The streetlight shone on the face of the middle-aged woman, which was already pale, but now emitted an even more penetrating whiteness, her face devoid of any color, making one's scalp tingle just looking at her.
Especially that gust of wind, which blew so strangely, creating a chilling atmosphere, Mo Qingyi grabbed Chu Jin's arm a little nervously.