That child, amidst this bitter winter, wore only a thin, long garment. Originally pure white, the shirt was now stained crimson by endless streams of water.,No one would care, Ye Qingtang, whether she lived or died.,Ye You, who was named by Ye Qingtang, frowned slightly, her eyes full of disdain. In her eyes, Ye Qingtang was nothing more than a struggling ant on the verge of death, not even worthy of her mercy.。