It's snowing.
Qi Sui raised his head and slowly exhaled.
Jiang Yousheng wrapped her gently in a scarf.
Warm palms pressed against her eyes.
He curved his lips, and his soft black hair almost covered his eyes:
"Qisui, Merry Christmas."
His voice sounded at the same time as the bell.
Concept: Everywhere he went there were traces of her
