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Li Hanxian's eyes flashed with an unusual glint, and he involuntarily clenched his fingers.
Next to him, Li Jinghong coughed uncomfortably, his face weak and haggard due to the death of Tang Xuelan, which had dealt him a heavy blow. Furthermore, his inability to catch Rong Shengsheng meant he couldn't sleep day or night, leading to his physical collapse.
Zhu Miaoyue, worried something might happen, urged him to rest for a while, but he was unwilling and insisted on staying until the funeral was over.
"Brother Xian."
The woman's voice was tender and pleasing to the ear, like the sound of a piano in a snowy landscape, making one's heart tremble.
Li Hanxian looked up to see a woman dressed in a black gown approaching gracefully. Between strands of her soft and beautiful hair, she wore a small white flower, her face exceptionally innocent and guileless.
