The north wind carried snow foam and smashed against the creaking wooden door of the ruined temple.
Su Wan rubbed her hands that were red from the cold, breathed out into her palms, and carefully added the last bit of firewood to the weak fire in front of her. The flames jumped a few times, barely dispelling a small circle of chill.
Somehow, Su Wan opened the door again. She moved closer, brushing away the man's tangled hair covered with ice and snow, revealing a face.
It's actually a young man. He looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, his face was as pale as paper, his long eyelashes were tightly closed, and his lips were bloodless, but he still couldn't hide his delicate and handsome features. There was a hideous wound on his shoulder, which was still slowly oozing blood.
Concept: short story