"If I did not guess wrongly, that person was Yang Hua."
Pei Zhenghui's voice was calm, a different scene from when the couple had just entered the cell. The wound on his forehead seemed to stop hurting as he did not care about it any longer.
He moved backward after saying this and sat down on the floor, cross-legged, continuing, "A person once called me. I didn't notice the number of digits of the phone number, but I did notice the voice coming from the receiver."
"What voice?"
Ji Ziming narrowed his cold and sharp eyes at him.
"That voice seemed to have come from underground. There's a knocking sound and the sound of wind. Sometimes, it's very quiet; sometimes, it's very noisy. The person kept chuckling while talking to me. When I asked who the person was, they just hung up the call."
He recalled. The voice was extremely eerie. In that silent and isolated room, he felt cold air swirling on his back.
