On that winter day when the snow was falling and the plum blossoms were fragrant, when the cold wind was blowing but the heart was still warm and pure, Yan Yimeng felt that there was nothing more romantic than growing old with Yao Qisheng, but she was severely despised by the people around her with snowflakes on their heads: "Yan Yimeng, can you not do such a vulgar and harmful thing?"
Yi Meng pressed her red nose and snorted dissatisfied in a nasal voice: "Then can you think of anything more romantic than this?"
The others remained silent and just quietly led her through the snowy path covered with sycamore leaves...
Until a long time later, Yao Qisheng said affectionately to the woman next to him who was still as beautiful as a flower and wearing a bright snow-white wedding dress: "Mrs. Yao, for Mr. Yao, the most romantic thing in the world is to love only one person in your life." As a result, the bride was so embarrassed that she retched...
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