If the old lady from the Mo family had come an hour later, Mo Qingyi would have already been buried in the snow.
The blizzard that night was fiercer than ever before, and by the time she found Mo Qingyi, her body had already started to turn purple. She could be said to have one foot in the Palace of Yama; no one expected that the thin and small infant of those years would grow into a lady as beautiful as a flower.
"Auntie Tong, please, just tell me," Mo Qingyi's expression didn't change much, and she even had a faint smile on her face.
Sometimes, the more indifferent one appears on the outside, the more they actually care on the inside.
