That was the laughter of a child, as if coming from a faraway place, ethereal yet queer, hoarse and piercing, waxing and waning, now distant, now near.
Strange mutterings filled his ears, something trying to force its way into his brain, cold malevolence to the extreme!
The young man suddenly withdrew his fingers and quickly backed away, but in the narrow corridor he tripped over something and stumbled, falling back into the seats behind him.
"What's wrong with you?" Xu Shuo, standing beside him, asked with a look of surprise, leaning over with concern, "Are you feeling alright?"
"I... I..." The young man stared at him with wide eyes, his chest heaving violently, his breathing heavy, as if something were pressing on his chest and he couldn't breathe.
He fixed his gaze on the refined and cultured man in front of him, then, his befuddled gaze shifted past the man's shoulder, landing on the little girl with shoulder-length hair behind him.