Gu Mian glanced at Han Shan beside him.
Han Shan was still gripping the pen tightly.
Gu Mian shot him a curious look but said nothing.
Seeing the two of them heading towards the peddler, Suo Qingqiu hurriedly followed.
The night wind blew across the platform, making it very cold. Gu Mian wrapped his white coat tighter around himself.
Without wasting any time, they reached the center of the platform in just a few strides.
The center of the platform was pitch-black, the peddler's face somewhat indistinct, but her features could be discerned with a careful look.
She was a middle-aged woman who seemed to have endured much toil in her youth; deep wrinkles were etched onto her face.
Gu Mian noticed that her expression at that moment seemed uneasy, even a little guilty.
How odd...
