It's snowing again, and the snow in this city always makes people feel like it's ash instead of snow.
In the city's southern suburbs cemetery.
Su Ye: "Do you think... Is she happy..."
Fang Yue: "Who knows... Whether she looks like this snow, floating, waiting, dirty, no one dares to love..."
Quiet, snowy days are always so quiet, a slender white hand catches the gray snowflakes, and the snowflakes slowly, slowly melt in these hands...
Intention: