Cold, very cold, so cold that one can't help but shiver from beginning to end. Shixian wrapped his coat tightly, and reluctantly took his hands out of his pockets to play with his hair that was messed up by the wind. To be honest, he really hated those hairs, just like his own. It's very dark, very long, and has a supple feel that fascinates everyone who sees it. He instinctively avoided that memory, which reminded him of too much sadness, helplessness and pain.