The cold wind of late winter blew through Qingyan Town like a knife blade. Bai Xiaoran shrank his neck and put his hands deeply into the pockets of his faded cotton jacket. The tips of her hair were a strange silvery white, looming in the moonlight, and the skin behind her ears occasionally flashed a scaly sheen. It was the night of her seventeenth birthday, and it was also a sign of another shedding.
