Yaoyao lay on the sofa, unwilling to move a muscle. She even asked Meng Chuan to make her a cup of tea to ease her stress.
At the same time, Yaoyao summoned a little chair, stretched out her legs, and rested them on it.
Yaoyao wore clothes from Earth's post-civilization era. Her long legs were fair, smooth, and dazzling enough to make one's eyes swim.
That drew questioning, searching looks from Lu Mingfei and the others.
"Watch yourself. My friends are looking," Meng Chuan reminded Yaoyao, though he poured her a cup of tea anyway.
"Your friends?" Yaoyao lifted her head from the corner of the sofa and looked around. As expected, she saw no one.
"Who's here besides you and me, much less any friends of yours?" Yaoyao looked at Meng Chuan as if to ask, Do I look that easy to fool?
Anyone could see there wasn't a soul around, yet he was telling her his friends were watching.
What, are all your friends ghosts?
Does he think I'm as brainless as Little Feng?
"They're right here. Just because you can't see them doesn't mean my friends don't exist," Meng Chuan said earnestly.
"Do I look like someone who'd lie?"
Yaoyao grew serious. She didn't think Meng Chuan would deceive her about something like this.
She sat up, drew in her legs, and carefully surveyed her surroundings. She tried every means of investigation she had, but still found nothing.
"Uncle Ling, forgive me for asking, but are your friends souls?"
"You can think of them as people from another world. They don't exist in the same dimension as us," Meng Chuan said.
Yaoyao understood. They had gone to another world—which meant they had died. He was simply putting it gently.
Uncle Ling had always been alone. So all