Shen zhicai walked over and found that the surroundings were strange yet familiar. He was not sure if this was the place.
From afar, she saw Shen chengjing and Mo Yancheng.
"Chengjing." He was overjoyed. After all, he could still meet someone familiar here.
Hearing his voice, mo Yancheng turned around and glanced at him coldly. Shen zhicai trembled and unconsciously lost his direction under his cold gaze.
"Plop." Shen zhicai fell down the hill.
"Aiya," Shen zhicai fell down. There were branches and weeds everywhere. He didn't know why, but he felt pain all over his body and couldn't move.
She watched him approach and suddenly fell.
Shen chengjing turned around calmly and squatted down to burn the joss paper.
At dusk, the setting sun shone on the earth. It was quiet in the mountains, and only the sound of the branches rustling in the wind could be heard. The setting sun fell on the grave, but Shen chengjing remained silent.
