C92 As False

Shizheng of Tibetan Scriptures — — 1 to 47

The world was merciless.

Snowflakes fell.

A thick layer of snow had already accumulated in the yard outside the window.

Jing Mo rubbed his hands together and laughed in his mouth. It was still a little cold.

There was only a small stove in the room. In the front room, there was warmth in the room that he and Jing Yuanyang lived in