He made a gesture and scared the grandparents.
"Stay here." Mr. Qian stepped forward with his left foot and waved his banana fan, his face revealing his signature, cynical smirk—three parts see-through-the-world's-hardships, seven parts chill.
As soon as he entered the room, Mr. Qian felt darkness before his eyes, the sun disappeared, and it was silent, a silence he had never experienced before, as if he had entered another world.
A cold wind blew suddenly, chilling to the bone, Mr. Qian looked up.
Centered in the room, the black and white plaques on the altar suddenly vibrated with a buzzing sound, making a bone-crushing noise.
Mr. Qian steeled himself and moved forward, the chilling wind intensified, and a piercing, tragic scream rang in his ears, sounding like a baby crying and a wrongfully deceased woman, unceasing, invoking the deepest fear in one's heart. He got goosebumps all over his body from fright.
