"Dream Loss Syndrome?"
Under the blazing autumn sun, the old residence in Yacheng was pleasantly cool.
Tong Ting lowered his eyes, staring at the bizarre Spiritual Substance flying insect in his hand. No matter how desperately it fluttered, it could not fly away. He could not help but sigh in frustration.
"Why has Yacheng had more drama these past two years than I've seen in half my life?
It feels like whether they're people or ghosts, everyone's coming here to stir up trouble..."
He paused and looked at the old man cooling off beside the pond. "Dad, did you pick the wrong place back then? Is there something wrong with our home's feng shui?"
"Yeah, you finally noticed?"
Tong Yuan shot his unserious heir a glance, a half-smile on his face. "How about I find you a prime feng shui spot and bury you there to balance things out?
I might as well let you have that huanghuali coffin of mine too. First come, first served."
"I was wrong—"
Tong Ting immediately caved. He did not want to leave the house only to trip and roll all the way from the mountainside to the foot of the mountain. If he kept talking back, his father might make him roll straight into the NanDu River.
"Come on, old man, take a look at it. What exactly is this thing?"
He spread his fingers and tossed out the bug Tong Hua had brought back. At once, the Spiritual Substance flying insect unfurled its wings and flew about wildly and aimlessly. Yet no matter where it flew, it remained circling the old man's lounge chair.
Until Tong Yuan finally reached out his hand, and it immediately hovered above it.
Its cicada-like wings folded closed.
Like a real flying insect, it groomed the feelers