There is lingering snow in the cold courtyard, and the broken walls are filled with miserable wind.
Shen Qingluan swallowed the sweet taste in his throat and looked at his enemies and relatives who were laughing and laughing outside the door, with only a bone-chilling chill in his eyes.
This life is absurd, and everything is lost.
When her consciousness sank into darkness, she had only one thought: If there is an afterlife, everyone must pay for it with blood.
When I opened my eyes again, the incense from the Nuang Pavilion was lingering, and in the mirror was the face of a young girl.
She's back.
Back to a time when all tragedies had not yet happened.
The fingertips gently closed the sleeves, covering up the thin calluses on the palms and the sharp edge on the body.
From then on, clouds cover thousands of faces. In this life, she will be the phoenix that breaks through thorns and soars up to the sky.
