Chapter 8: The Pilgrimage
In the guest room, Wu Xingxue suddenly opened his eyes.
He was a bit surprised that he had actually fallen asleep just now.
Almost everyone in Que City knew that he had a strange preference when sleeping-for most people, the quieter, the better. But not for him. If it’s too quiet, he wouldn’t get a second of sleep during the night. He liked it when it was slightly noisy.
He once joked to one of the old butlers in his manor, "I might as well raise a band and let them play their instruments and sing next to me." That way, I’ll definitely be able to sleep until noon. "
The old butler’s face turned ashen as he listened, then said that "it wouldn’t be very safe to hire outsiders." So, he tied some bells on the tree branches outside and raised all kinds of birds. That way, whenever a bird landed on a branch, the bells would ring.
Unfortunately, there were no band troupes here, nor birds. There was only an "attendant jailer" planted silently in the room, and somehow he managed to fall asleep.
"Xiao Fuxuan."
Wu Xingxue rolled over and sat up, hearing the gentle tinkling of a bell. He almost didn’t know where he was, thinking he had returned to Que City.
But Que City didn’t have the sound of chains.