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... onsciously retracted his hand.

   His skin is as cold as ice, and the cracks crisscrossing it are real.

  Why do I dream that I am cracked?

  Xiaolan stood on the spot and pondered for a while, but still had no clue.

In the fog ahead   , a biting cool wind blows erratically.

  Xiaolan shivered, she raised her head, rearranged her clothes, then swallowed her saliva and continued to walk forward.

   A figure appeared in the mist.

   Xiaolan's footst ...

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