This winter’s end, Wen Hean was stripped of her power and exiled to the Ruined Wastes. Born into one of the top families of Heavenly Capital, she had once been a figure who could stir up storms with a mere smile. Everyone said that this time, her downfall, loss of reputation, and fortune were all due to a single word: “love.” Wen Hean had previously entered into a marriage, where the other party, in terms of background, strength, and appearance, was among the elite. Their union was hailed as a powerful combination between families, devoid of any romantic sentiment. This marriage ended just as quietly as it began. What truly left her “bewildered and infatuated” was a hostage prince from the Dongzhou royal court who remained in Heavenly Capital. He was gentle and refined, serene and peaceful, but at the most crucial moment, he conspired with her subordinates and joined forces with her formidable rivals, throwing damning evidence of her power grab in her face, while he used the situation to rise swiftly and gracefully extricated himself. When the dust settled, Wen Hean looked at the turbulent barriers of the Ruined Wastes, believing that she had lost all chance of making a comeback. It was mid-winter, the coldest part of the year. Wen Hean, heavily wrapped up, returned to her dilapidated shack with medicine, only to find a couple of white-clothed Painted Immortals standing guard outside, their demeanor respectful and familiar to an alarming degree. She pushed the door open. And saw Lu Yuran. Even in Heavenly Capital, a place brimming with powerhouses, Lu Yuran’s name stood out like pure snow in the city of Ying, unique and outstanding. He was the heir with great expectations placed upon him, the pinnacle of the Hundred Battles Ranking, full of spirit and vigor, unstoppable—a true flawless jade, a peerless heavenly pride. Today, if there was one blemish on his perfect record, it would be Wen Hean. As her former partner in a strong alliance marriage. “I am here today,” On a snowy day, Lu Yuran, dressed in fine robes, stood before the dilapidated window, his beautiful features slightly dulled by the snow, his tone as detestable as ever: “After this incident, can you finally cure your blindness?” “…?” “If you can.” He turned his gaze, looking at her from a dozen steps away, cold frost emanating from his lazily lowered eyelashes: “Do you want to follow me?” “To fight back.” Related Stories: No related posts.