They didn't get drunk like that year; instead, they remained quite sober.
Gazing at the cold stars in the night, Dong Huiying recalled many things, but what she thought of the most was still that heartless man.
Yixuan, at this moment, where are you?
It was a coincidence.
In a certain mountain villa, the servants watched in fear as the gentle man, like warm jade, carrying a wine jug, climbed up to the roof.
"What's going on with the Master?" the servants whispered, gathering together quietly.
"You only started this year, so it's understandable you don't know. Our Master has always been like this, it's an annual tradition. On New Year's Eve, he always sits alone on the roof for the entire night."
At that moment, a soft little bun, wearing a light purple jacket, wobbled out of the house with chubby little legs, holding onto the wall.
"Papa?" he called softly, eyes wide and bright.
