In other words, this was prepared specifically for them.
Inviting one into the pot.
That's pretty much what it means.
This room is overall slightly larger than the one on the left, but it's filled with more stuff, so it feels much more cramped. As always, Jiang Qingluan turns to close the door, sealing this room off from the hall and tuning into her surroundings.
But the moment the door clicked shut, Jiang Qingluan felt a distinct malice. She whirled around instantly, eyes locked onto something behind her, her right arm flailing reflexively – if she had been clutching bone ash, it would have scattered in that movement.
"Huff——"
"Huff——"
Her chest heaving, Jiang Qingluan leaned against the door, sweat beads rolling down her forehead. Just then, she almost thought she was about to die.
Why?
Why was that feeling of impending death so intense?
