At the age of sixty, Fang Xuanling, wearing his official robes, stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back. He looked up at the snow-covered roof and wore a face full of worry.,I blame myself for not discovering the second young master's whereabouts in time. The maid cried so sadly, her tears were like pear blossoms in the rain.,In each of the four corners of the grand hall were several braziers, their fires burning brightly, warming the room like spring.。