The empty room was all white at a glance, a daunting and despairing whiteness.
Death and chill pervaded every corner of the room.
The man knelt on the ground, it is said that men don't shed tears easily until they are truly heartbroken. He trembled as he tried to lift the white cloth but eventually refrained, collapsing onto the corpse, wailing in grief.
It was all his fault, he didn't protect his mother, fell into Ruan Wencheng's treacherous plan...
Thinking of this, a world-destroying hatred flared in his eyes, his hands clenched into fists so tightly that his nails almost pierced his palms.
On Yan Song's handsome face was a coldness that seeped into the bones, his thin lips tightly pressed, with a hint of pain and regret hidden in his eyes.
If he had paid more attention to his aunt and cousin earlier, wouldn't such a tragedy have been avoided?
Yan Song suddenly punched the floor hard, a dull "bang" echoed, causing hearts to jump.
His fists were a bloody mess.
