The spiritually-sensitive Li Qing immediately sensed something and turned around.
It was a young girl, though not that young—she was at least fourteen—but she still looked quite immature.
Seeing the other party eyeing him with a mysterious gaze, Li Qing couldn't help but ask, "What's wrong?"
The girl remained silent, and seeing this, Li Qing only shook his head slightly and said nothing more, opening the door and stepping inside.
"Are you the one who bought this house?"
The girl's cold voice softly sounded, stopping Li Qing in his tracks.
"What's wrong?"
Seeing that Li Qing didn't deny it, the girl slightly narrowed the gap in the barely ajar door.
"Didn't the sellers tell you that someone recently died in this house—not just one person?"
Li Qing said, "Well, they did tell me."
The girl's eyes widened: "And you still bought it?"
Li Qing shrugged: "Who wouldn't, given the price."
"Aren't you afraid for your life?"
"Nowadays, having a house is more crucial than life."
