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"Escape from... Da Chen?"
An Jing didn't understand the meaning of these words for a moment, and Bai Qinghan raised her eyes, the deep abyss-like black pupils swirling with a glint of mysterious indigo and ink blue.
These tranquil eyes, against her pale skin whiter than snow, made her seem like a sprite stepping out of a painting, or perhaps a fawn lying in the green grass at dawn, harmless and endearing.
Yet it was such a sprite that spoke words brimming with hatred.
"I loathe Da Chen."
Under An Jing's astonished gaze, Bai Qinghan turned her head to look north.
With the calmest tone, she spoke her most heartfelt words: "My hometown was struck by a magic disaster, and no one came to save us. Mother and father 'died,' and no one came to save them."
