Chen Xiaolan was born as a village girl, her sewing skills were top-notch. Even pieces of meat torn like that could be neatly sewn back by her, and the seams were perfect and tidy.
Meng Zifei stared blankly, momentarily lost in thought.
Such a strange person.
In the past, teaching Chen Xiaolan, he only thought she was the daughter of an ordinary family.
Now it seems that even cultivators with strong determination wouldn't dare to do such dirty and bloody deeds.
Yet she could grit her teeth and toughen her scalp to do it slowly, which was truly remarkable.
Outside, the wind and snow howled; the natural snow cave lacked a top to block the wind and snow. Occasionally, tiny snowflakes passed through the sparse branches and leaves, blending with the cold moonlight, silently falling down.
Meng Zifei found himself placed in a light-shunning area, although his body was throbbing with unbearable pain.
