The oars stroked for the thirty-fourth time, and the water rippled with fine ice. Your boat was like a wine bottle soaked in ice water on a summer day.
"Stop!"
The gentleman lying in your arms on the boat said one word with great force, and the hot breath he exhaled quickly dissipated in the cold weather. He would be out of breath for half a day after saying one word.
Feeling the ups and downs of the person in your arms, you retracted your hand while rowing, put the oar aside, hugged him quickly, and let the boat float on the lake, seemingly heading towards the center of the lake.
The snow returning from the Arctic Circle has begun to fall.
Attachment: The narcissistic Mr. Rongze has forced himself into the protagonist column. This article is updated from time to time, basically four times a week. Please collect it! ! !
Also attached is a link to the same series: "Waiting"