Several high school students had also happened to reach the sofa. They turned to look at the elegantly dressed yet strangely expressioned female scholar, momentarily at a loss.
In the brief silence, Jiang Xia bent down, picked up Poushi Qinglan's phone from the floor, and held it out to her.
"..."
Suddenly being so close to a dead man, Poushi Qinglan felt like her scalp was about to explode.
But because of that proximity, she could clearly feel the warmth of the living emanating from Jiang Xia. She stared fixedly at Jiang Xia's right eye. The young man seemed unaccustomed to that gaze and slowly blinked—the eye was completely intact, and there was not the slightest unnaturalness in its movement. It was unmistakably the eye of a living person.
Poushi Qinglan: "..." But how could he possibly be alive?!
What was going on... what exactly was going on?!
Her heart screamed in uncertainty and alarm, but outwardly, she quickly steadied herself and reached for the phone Jiang Xia had picked up for her. "...Thank you."
As she did so, Poushi Qinglan looked at the phone held in midair, then swept her gaze over the others from the corner of her eye as she thought rapidly: Jiang Xia had indeed picked up the phone. When the others moved around, they also seemed to deliberately leave space for him, and none of them questioned the phone floating in midair—this meant Jiang Xia did have a physical body, and everyone else could see him too. It was not something only she, the murderer, could see.
This man was not a ghost.
Fear was fear, but as a bloody killer who had traveled the world, Poushi Qinglan did not want fear affecting her actions. An urgent thought flashed through her mind: I have to