By the time Qiao An climbed out of the deep pit, the fire in the orchard had been completely extinguished.
Qiao An looked at the dejected, crying teenagers and couldn't help but let a mischievous smirk grace her lips.
"What are you crying for? Weren't you so brave when you were setting the fire?"
The teenagers wanted to retort, but they immediately shut their mouths.
They still remembered how she had charged at them—fierce, vicious, with ice-cold eyes that looked like she was about to kill someone.
Then they glanced at the one on the ground, who was clutching his head and screaming incessantly. They didn't even dare to breathe too loudly, simply shedding silent tears and huddling together for warmth out of fear.
It was only then that Qiao An noticed the soot-covered Xie Shan, and Mu Zimo, who was wrapped in a thick blanket with a pale face.
"What happened?"
