The wind and snow are like knives, splitting the sky.
The snow in the south lane of the capital was ankle-deep, and dead branches cracked in the strong wind.
A slender figure huddled in the snow in the corner, with frozen hair and blue lips, like a corpse that had long since expired.
But in that breath that was about to die out, there was still a weak but stubborn pulse deep in the chest - like a lingering fire on a cold night, swaying forever.
Su Yening opened her eyes.
His consciousness was as chaotic as fog, and his eyes were filled with scarlet red.
Her mouth tasted fishy and sweet, and black blood dripped from the corners of her mouth, making small black pits on the snow.
The fingertips moved slightly and touched the cold and slippery wound on the side of the neck - there should have been a wedding ring with a ruby embedded there, but now there was only a gap in the flesh, and the blood had condensed into a dark scab.
