The house that Tang Huai lived in before was demolished by Peng Jiayao.
Now there is just an empty lot, and Peng Jiayao's other sons have no interest in this piece of land either.
In their eyes, this place is unlucky; Tang Youxin lived here and passed away at a young age. Even Liu Xiaoyu could not escape this fate.
Moreover, she left no heirs, only gave birth to a few daughters, and was poor as can be. Who would dare want such land? Who would dare build a house and live here?
So, the lot remained vacant, and Tang Peijun used it to pile up firewood.
Jing Xuan found a dry and clean spot and set up a tent, the kind that is big enough to sleep two adults.
Once the tent was set up, Jing Xuan let Tang Huai go inside as the night's wind was very cold, and she was still in a weak state.
After pulling her into the tent, Jing Xuan held her hands in his and warmed them with his breath, rubbing them to provide warmth.
Her hands, so icy cold...
