In the cave, Fang Yang contemplated for a long time, but to no avail.
He just watched the wind and snow outside the cavern.
Meanwhile, Ye Qinghong was also slowly waking up, her eyelashes trembling faintly as her eyes, cold as a frosty pond, gradually opened.
Her usually sharp face showed a rare look of bewilderment, her stubborn lips slightly parted, making her look a bit naturally dazed, foolish even.
It was only then that she remembered something seemed to have happened just now, and she hastily inspected her body.
There were none of the bruises described in the books, nor any sort of pain...
Which meant that her wedding night had failed.
There was no way to board the ship first and then buy a ticket, let alone throw a fortune to take responsibility for her teacher.
Ye Qinghong looked at the burnt-out candles, at the teardrops of wax, and sighed deeply, feeling somewhat disappointed and extremely frustrated, as if she had missed a naive but good opportunity.
