Song Yinghan listened, and calmly looked at the silver-haired old man beside her: "Why do you have a prejudice against him?"
Song Qingshan hesitated for a moment: "What do you mean?"
"Exactly what it seems, I can sense your deep distrust towards him."
Dressed in a white gown, a thin layer of snowflakes scattered on her shoulder, amidst the snow, Song Yinghan frankly said:
"I've grown up, I have some of my own thoughts too, I like him, he likes me, why can't we be together? Besides, he doesn't need me to take care of him, he's definitely not someone who can only live off others because he's weak."
"Then I don't quite understand your meaning, perhaps you think I must find a powerful cultivator? Or should I only look for someone more arrogant than myself, Song Yinghan, so that our pride can be suppressed?"
"Have we fallen too much?"
She asked in doubt.
