The snow was falling.
Xia Ji strolled in the manor next door.
Now, no servant dared to stop Mister Feng.
The Marquis of Cold Heaven who had tried to stop him last time was not living in peace.
Xia Ji held the brocade bag in his arms, his fingers caressing the word 'Ji' embroidered on the gold thread.
To be honest, he also felt that Su Linyu's thoughts were a little naive and idealistic, but so what?
This was his mother.
His mother was harmed by an aristocratic family.
Could it be that he still thought that his mother's death was right, that she was killed well, that she deserved to die?
From the moment he walked into the manor, an inexplicable evil fire rose from the bottom of his heart.
Bilibili ...
Suddenly, the sound of flames could be heard in the distance.
