The river is cold and the wind is blowing.
Ru Wu still remembers that day, when the wild waves crashing on the shore turned into thousands of piles of snow. Even though he was sitting in the sedan, the splashing water still wet his white shirt.
The wind could not blow into the sedan chair, but Qing Wu felt the coldness. It penetrated directly into his skin from the wet shirt, penetrated through the skin and penetrated into his blood and bone marrow.
Autumn is already deep. From Mengxia to the present, this "battle" has been fought long enough, hard enough, and tiring enough...