Perhaps after reading materials all day, his eyes had grown a little sore.
After saying that, Dr. Duzem rubbed the corner of his eye and took out a bottle of eyedrops from the display cabinet behind him.
Zheng Qing immediately shifted his gaze elsewhere in the room—no surprise, the Doctor was about to wash his eyeballs. Although he had seen such a scene several times before, he still was not used to it. He always found it somewhat horrifying.
"Not many people know my residence and identity, but neither are there few. There are also quite a few people who could have leaked this information to a 'stranger.' Miss Jiang is absolutely not among them. Very few wizards can break the magic binding me here... and she does not yet possess that ability." Dr. Duzem's voice reached Zheng Qing's ears, utterly calm.
Had Zheng Qing not looked away, he would have noticed that as Dr. Duzem said this, his gaze swept past the corner of the study, and a trace of surprise showed in the eye he had yet to remove.
At that moment, Zheng Qing was observing the black wooden wall clock hanging on the wall.
The brass pendulum swung at an unhurried pace. Because the room was dim, the silver clock face looked as though it had been coated in gray dust, grimy and dirty. Above it stood a tiny wooden house with its door tightly shut.
Zheng Qing vaguely remembered that the first time he had visited this study, an alchemical rooster had emerged from that little house and crowed. It had been exquisitely made. Yet during his many later visits, he had never seen that rooster again.
Who knew whether the Doctor had stuffed it to death inside that little house with a rag?
Soon, clinking