The day Ling Lu returned home, the first snow of the season fell upon Jiangcheng.
The swirling, fluttering snow looked as soft as velvet, yet it felt bitingly cold to the touch.
Standing in the middle of the spiral staircase was a youth with handsome, refined features and a posture as straight as a young silver birch. He watched with icy eyes as the girl sat on the sofa, looking uneasy.
Chapter 77