The thunderstorm is least lacking in July.
Clear in the morning, fierce wind and rain in the afternoon, and by night, it's lightning and thunder.
Experiencing the changes of four seasons in one day.
Traversing through multiple seasons.
Du Shirun stands before Liu Qing in a black raincoat.
The man's cold expression shows no trace of emotion.
He resembles a reaper.
Specifically here to claim Liu Qing's life.
"Aren't you already dead?"
The umbrella in Liu Qing's hand had long been blown away by the wind.
The rain pattered down, splashing on her face, blurring her vision.
Making it hard for her to see clearly the person in front.
Muffled thunder rolls, striking past.
Like haunting souls, wailing, lamenting.
Du Shirun steps gradually on the water surface, inching towards Liu Qing.
Liu Qing supports herself on the ground, retreating step by step.
No trace of any noble lady's demeanor remains.
She resembles a chased stray dog.
