Immortals and demons have been enemies for thousands of years, and they meet at the lowest point. Only each other can save each other.
The seven or eight-year-old child was wearing loose black clothes that didn't fit him. The corners were frayed. His pale face was buried between his knees, and his shoulders were trembling slightly. He was Ye Heng who had faded into a childish state after the spell was unleashed.
Others only think of him as a homeless orphan, but Ye Heng himself understands this. Hearing footsteps approaching, he subconsciously tensed his back, clenched the hem of his clothes tightly with his fingertips, and assumed a habitual alert posture.
Shen Qingci took a soft white coat and wrapped it carefully around his thin body: "It's very windy and snowy here. Please follow me back to the bamboo house for the time being. Don't be afraid."
Ye Heng raised his eyes, and his long eyelashes drooped, hiding the complicated emotions surging in his eyes. He has seen the most sinister schemes in the three realms, and has been tortured to the point of tearing his muscles and eroding his bones. Thousands of people fear him, spit on him, and plot against him. No one has ever been so patient with him.
Intention: Two-way redemption and mutual destination