Hearing the sound of closing the door, Ao Xue threw his eyes out of the window. Under the blue sky, the tall sycamore trees were sprouting tender buds. Two white butterflies were flying to the tender buds, and a cloud just came and cast a shadow.

Everything is so beautiful and natural, and these beautiful things are so dazzling in her eyes. Why does she see happiness and happiness? Even these dead bodies reveal a sense of joy, but why is the world so miserable for her?

The door was pushed open again, and the look of her resentment was somewhat restrained. Just now, she must have hurt the snow...