She pushed the bamboo raft into the sea.
Her little feet stepped into the icy cold tide, but she did not feel it. Her pants were drenched from her waist to her waist, but she did not care.
When she was almost done, she suddenly jumped up and climbed onto the bamboo raft, sitting in the middle.
Under the cold moonlight, she followed the tide and left.
His heart was magnanimous.
"Little Wu ~~~"
"Little Wu ~~~"
She suddenly heard a voice coming from behind her.
Little Su did not turn her head.
Her heart was as still as water, and there was a dagger on her legs.
A person, a dagger, with a heart like dead ashes, but still pressing forward. When there were no more relatives in the world, it was enough to die in a way that could comfort him or live.
Many years ago, the Great Emperor who had forged the Twelve Men of Gold might have made the same choice.
