Like Sailing Like Summer

About This Novel

The winter in Fengcheng is surprisingly cold, and the thick down jacket cannot stop the cold wind from blowing all the way into the body and drilling into the seams of the bones. Xia Hang gathered up the only khaki cotton-padded jacket on his body, jumped out of the bus as soon as the door opened, and turned into an alley without looking back. He walked towards a breakfast stall not far away with his short hair that was gnawed by cats and dogs.

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