Xingyu slept for a very, very long time. When she finally woke up again, she had no idea what day or month it was.
She came out to forage, but for some reason, she happened to walk past the little stream where she had first met that man.
Xingyu stared at the empty, desolate stream bank. It was winter now, and a biting chill hung in the air. The lower half of her body was submerged in the lukewarm, soothing water of the stream, while her upper half was exposed to the piercing cold wind. Combined with her rumbling, empty stomach, it put her in a rather indescribable mood—which, to put it mildly, was not very good.
Chapter 172