The snow in Beijing always falls gently, floating like broken jade on the red walls and gray tiles of the Imperial City, and falling on the balcony railing where Chen Yi was basking in the sun, bringing with it the smell of fireworks in the alley.
The wind in Lhasa is wild, wrapped in the coldness of Nyenchen Tanglha Mountain, and the sound of hunting prayer flags once rested on the tips of Xie Xuan's short hair, hidden on her young and proud face, and followed her all the way over the mountains and ridges to the capital thousands of miles away.
Ten years later, time whizzed by, the snow in the capital fell and melted, and the wind in Lhasa stopped and rose again. The two people who had been separated by the years finally reunited in the wind and snow, which was too late.
Intention: Longing for all your love and hate