lt;The misfortune of

Death, this is not because of his low mental fortitude, but because he is truly dying. A strong rope tightly binds around his neck.,Lin Hao stood before a solid stone arch bridge, facing the intoxicating spring breeze. He looked at the farmers working diligently on both sides of the river and the women picking mulberry leaves, but his eyes were filled with melancholy.,Lin Zhaoran watched the fading figure, his face etched with a mixture of helplessness and resignation.。