The snowflakes in the sky were getting bigger. The night was getting darker and the temperature was getting lower. The snowflakes fell on the ground without a sound.
Everything was silent, not even the sound of breathing could be heard. Time seemed to have stopped, and everyone looked behind mill, including himself.
The black muzzle of the gun seemed to merge with the dark night, but it emitted a chill that was even colder than the night.
The snowflakes fell on the spear and melted in a moment, but the hand holding the spear was as steady as Mount Tai.
The muzzle was aimed at him!
Mi er's body was shaking, and so was the gun pressed against Yan qingsi's neck. His eyes were about to burst open, and he looked at the person holding the gun in disbelief.
Was the gun aimed at him?
No, he didn't believe it. He didn't dare to believe it.
