Wang Qingfeng has been practicing at the top of the mountain for half a year. He can only use stones to draw horizontal bars on the wall to calculate the number of days. According to his calculation, it's the thirtieth anniversary of the lunar new year. Today, he doesn't meditate or vomit. He just looks at the East quietly on the top of the mountain. He misses his parents. He really wants to. He misses his mother's love when touching his head I miss the warmth of playing coquettish in my mother's arms and the cheer of my father holding me.

the Black Hawk is quietly by.

in the past...