Due to the importance involved, in order not to startle the snake, Kou Xiangxin's case is currently kept secret, and he only said that he was sick and recuperated.

There is never a shortage of new things on the Internet, and the public opinion turmoil on the Internet is also rising again and again, and Kou Xiangxin's gossip has not had time to ferment, and it was quickly suppressed by the peachy news of a certain traffic niche.

On the fifth day of resting at home, Nan Xian received the latest issue of "Revealing the Strange Tales" task card.

As soon as she finished reading the first line, she couldn't help but laugh.

The recording location of this issue turned out to be Qingcheng.

She shook the task card and thought for a moment: It's only been half a month, how many times have she heard these two words?

The mysterious women's clothing boss used the smoke to conjure up a map of Qingcheng, Kou Xiangxin drove to Qingcheng alone late at night, and he received a trip to Qingcheng again......

Is it a coincidence?

In the past, she didn't care about these details at all, but since she came into contact with metaphysics, she didn't dare to ignore anything unusual.

"When things go wrong, there must be a demon ......," she got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, muttering in a low voice.

The heat in the ceramic cup covered her face, her delicate and picturesque eyebrows melted into the warm orange halo, and a pair of pupils were like ink, reflecting the gorgeous night scene outside the window.

As the night deepened, the bustling city fell into a deep sleep, and only a few lights were still on, waiting tirelessly for the late return.

Suddenly a gust of wind blows, the leaves rustle, and a nightingale deftly flies out of the leafy shade, through the dark streets, over the calm lake, and finally folds its wings and lands lightly on the shoulders of a man.

The man stood under a extinguished street lamp, with black hair, black hat and black clothes, motionless, almost blending in with the night.

The wide brim of the hat covers the face, and the long hair is softly draped behind him, and he slowly looks up—

Only a snow-white chin and thin lips with a very light color are exposed.

Directly below the lips, in the slight depression, hides a cinnabar mole.

Like blood falling on white frost, dazzling.

The nightingale chirped and flapped its wings occasionally, as if trying to imitate some movements.

The man tilted his head slightly, and the brim of his hat showed a half-tall nose tip, the shape of which was almost perfect.

After listening carefully, a few low laughs came out of his chest.

The sound is very clear, as if hidden in the mountains in the hot summer, take a handful of cool spring water, and listen to the sound of dingdong music played by them sprinkled in the stream.

Even the nightingale was instantly bewitched by this laughter, staring intently at the person in front of him, and a pair of small black bean-like eyes almost bubbled with a substantial pink heart.

The laughter stopped abruptly, and he raised his hand lightly, pinched one of his two snow-white fingers, and unceremoniously flicked the nymphomaniac little nightingale off his shoulder.

"Chirp!" The little nightingale snapped to the ground, with circles of small stars rising above his head, and aggrievedly spread himself into a bird's cake.

The man turned around without looking back, and walked away.

"Chirp!" The little nightingale saw that she couldn't do it, and she was immediately deflated.

Hmph, good birds don't fight bad foxes!

It pouted, bounced off the ground, flapped its wings on its buttocks, and followed it on its little legs.

The street lights flickered a few times and brightened again.

The light fell on the man, casting a small shadow.

Erect ears, pointed beak, slender limbs, and fluffy tail.

It looks like a fox.