Yan Nai'er knelt before the crystal coffin, shimmering teardrops sliding from her beautiful eyes, and dropping onto her father Yan Yan's face.
Instantly, the teardrop turned to ice.
Yan Nai'er, with her jade-like hand, gently tried to brush away the iced teardrop on her father's face, only to have her hand instantly covered with a layer of frost, as if it were about to be frozen stiff.
Was Yan Yan dead?
Yan Nai'er didn't know, but in her heart, she refused to believe a thousand times, ten thousand times, that her father was dead.
At that moment, Yan Yan had no heartbeat, no breath. Yet his body was still life-like, without a hint of decay.
His body appeared normal at a glance, his skin still taut and elastic, and also at a normal temperature.
But for some unknown reason, anything that touched his body turned instantly to ice.
