The young man with the picturesque features now had a cold expression and unruly eyes. She almost wondered whether her memory was an illusion, or whether the ruthless time had turned into the sharpest carving knife, turning his gentleness and gentleness into something sharp and cold.
That winter, the winter snow fell for the first time.
"A Liang, are you cold?" The young man lowered his head, his voice was gentle, but his eyes were burning.
The girl didn't notice and just complained: "It's cold, I'm so cold, Brother Mu, I think my face is going to freeze!"
"Then, why don't you hug me? I'm quite warm." The young man's eyes drifted to where he was, and his ears turned red.
The girl looked up in surprise: "Really?"
"... Hmm." The boy turned his head and looked at the girl, his voice was low but firm.
After receiving the affirmation, the girl couldn't wait to fly into the boy's arms, and her fluffy head rubbed against the boy's chest from time to time: "You said this yourself, don't go back on it in the future!"
The young man raised his left hand to hold the waist of the girl in his arms, and stroked her hair with his right hand, cherishing her with all his heart, and his eyes were gentle, as if he was stroking his priceless treasure.
He raised the corner of his mouth and gently replied to her:
"No."
The snow is still falling on the ground, flying all over the sky, unscrupulously, as if it wants to take away all the warmth in the world, just to set off the deep warmth in the hearts of the people embracing each other.