Li Jing has never seen snow. Like all girls born in the south, she said she only knows that snow is light white, like the fog covering the lake. Liu Ningfan giggled after hearing this. He asked Li Jing what kind of metaphor this was, was it forcibly pretending to be literary? There is no way to describe snow as fog. Snow is snow, fog is fog. Fog cannot be touched, but snow can be held in the palm of your hand. Li Jing rolled his eyes at Liu Ningfan and thought to himself, not only have you never seen snow like me, but you have also never touched snow. If there is anything interesting about it, I can describe it however I want. Perhaps because the white eyes were too murderous, Liu Ningfan was frightened. He hugged Li Jing tightly and said softly in her ear: Let's go see the snow together in the future. Li Jing nodded. In many cold winters without snow, Liu Ningfan could always give her the long-lost warmth. Even after many years of separation, she would still think of him in winter and the tenderness that only belonged to her.
Intention: Travel through the past, reconcile with memories, and say goodbye to you