Jiang Yue woke up from her dream after sleeping haphazardly for who knows how long. Although there was a fire in the room, a desperate cold air still penetrated every inch of Jiang Yue's skin and penetrated into her heart. She looked around. There was an old wooden clock hanging on the cracked wall, ticking away, as if she never felt tired. The stove directly under the wall was filled with firewood and crackled, but Jiang Yue could not feel any warmth. On the contrary, she was tired and even disgusted by it all. She didn't know how long this kind of life would last...