That winter many years ago, that man was wearing a white fox fur, standing by the slightly frozen lake, smiling warmly at me.
The red plum blossoms on a tree beside the lake are in full bloom, one red and one white, which is really beautiful.
I ran over and looked up at him.
In my memory, that person was only half a body taller than me when I was young, but as I looked and looked, the originally clear face became increasingly blurry, and I could no longer see clearly.
I stretched out my hand, wanting to touch him, but it was cold where I touched it.
It's the first snow this year.
In the originally lonely courtyard, there were a few more figures.
There are those who roll snowballs, those who set off firecrackers, those who hang lanterns, and even those who eat candy.
I watched their smiles quietly and breathed lightly.
His shoulders suddenly became heavier, and there was an extra crane cloak.
He kept wearing his cloak and held me in his arms.
It turns out that this time, it was not a dream.