Swearing to Heavens

Yan Liqiang walked on the deserted road outside the Imperial Capital with his head lowered and he held a jar of wine. Amidst the bone-chilling cold wind, the snowflakes falling from the sky landed on his hair, eyebrows, and slid inside his collar. Despite the bone-piercing coldness, Yan Liqiang didn't feel anything. He continued walking with his head down, swigging the wine as he trudged through the snow…

At this moment, Yan Liqiang's heart was colder than the weather in the Imperial Capital. Even if he were to drink the strongest wine in the capital that would burn him up as soon as it entered his mouth, his heart and body would remain cold.