He Jian’s Feelings

A bone-piercing north wind whistled through the air.

Jiang Qingcheng was dressed in a long, pink dress with an inch-long, snow-colored cloth at the bottom. She clenched her fists lightly, and a worried expression appeared on her face. Her voice was as clear as spring water as she asked, "Mother, do you think Uncle Yu can beat that bad guy?" Her eyes and lips curled upwards at the same time, revealing a stunning disposition.