Gu Nanzhi was stumped, "What color coffin?"
She asked in confusion, "Aren't all coffins black?"
Tang Chuxia shook her head slightly. "No, I think you might need a big red one!"
Gu Nanzhi became even more puzzled, "Why?"
Tang Chuxia gave a dry laugh, "You'll know soon enough!"
It wasn't long after that—a next second, actually—a soul-calling wail rose from the depths of hell. "Gu Nanzhi, how do you want to die?"
The voice was ghostly, accompanied by a piercing cold wind that burst in through the open door, truly like a chilling breeze from the depths of a demonic abyss.
Gu Nanzhi shivered uncontrollably, a chill shot up from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.
The familiar voice carried a whiff of death.
Her little head slowly began to move, like a slow-motion scene in an animation, frame by frame, eventually freezing at a twisted angle, her gaze landing squarely on the speaker.
The person grinned at her, a sinister smile.
"Oh my God!"
