It is said that winter is the coldest season among the four seasons. Qingling closed the book, tilted her head and leaned on the table. She heard the sound of books turning in the library and the rustling of pens. She squinted at the sun hitting the table and sighed: "It's so cold." She then tightened her scarf. That boy, the boy who acted as her little sun in winter, is he doing well?
"You lose, thank you for breakfast next week." Chen Luan looked at his roommate with a tennis racket, as if he had nothing to do with me, and walked out of the tennis court with a smile. His laughter made the sunshine that finally came out in the cold winter softer. . . . . .