Qiu Ruoxi left, like a foxtail flower without roots, beginning to drift aimlessly in the wind!
In the sunlight, Qiu Ruoxi's figure was stretched out long, carrying an entrancing and melancholic aura within.
Could she be in great pain?
Qiu Ruoxi was indeed in great pain, as if there were thousands of ants biting at her heart, making her want to faint from the agony. Even at this moment, beads of sweat were covering her forehead, and every step seemed to drain all her strength; with each step, she would pant heavily.
Her complexion turned pale, like a sheet of white paper, devoid of any trace of blood, and her eyes became incredibly dull, devoid of any life.
It seemed as if her heart had died for something, leaving her as nothing more than a shell, without a soul, without thought.
