Ember Wilde

I died in the third month of the extreme cold.
Wearing thin clothes, my face covered with frost, my corpse frozen stiff.
After death, I saw my family whom I cared about deeply, all gathered around the murderer.
My father said, “Don’t be afraid, it’s not your fault she died.”
My mother said, “Our dear girl suffered, but it’s okay, I still have you, who is even more like a daughter than my real one.”
My brother said, “That woman is finally dead, I only recognize you as my sister!”
My boyfriend said, “Now we can finally be together openly.”
In overwhelming grief and anger, I opened my eyes, only to return to the day I was brought back home.

The Extreme Cold Strikes: I Play the Fake Daughter's Family to Death

The supplies in the small villa are plentiful, staying here for a year or two wouldn't be a problem.


It's just not that abundant in materials.


But as long as we can survive, what does that matter?


Half a month after moving in, Han Haotian was even more grateful for his affection toward me and his decisive move into the small villa.


The location down the mountain has already been flooded.


Frozen snow blocks, ice, and a sudden deluge have submerged buildings below.


If they still lived down there, they would have been among the drowned.


And now with power generation facilities, coal reserves at home, heating equipment reserves, and drugs and food that ensure safety of life.


I handed over the distribution of supplies to Han Haotian without reservation, once again satisfying his desire to be the head of the household.


And I was just a weak, helpless daughter who needed his support.


Chapter 8