The first snow fell that year on November 11th, and it fell all over the sky. Under the dim light of the street lights, it fell cold and lonely.
Si Jing stood quietly under the old tree without any branches. A snowflake fell on her eyelashes. In the blink of an eye, it melted and blurred her vision.
He stretched out his hand to wipe it off, but before he could lower it, he was stopped midway by a warm hand, holding it in the palm of his hand.
Warmth spreads through the palm of the hand to the bottom of the heart, like frozen ice gradually melting under the sunlight.
There was a lot of traffic on the road and noisy surroundings. Her ears seemed to have special functions, blocking out all the distracting sounds from the outside world. Only those cautious but persistent words lingered in her ears——
"Today, November 11th, it's snowing. It seems like God is mourning for single people. So don't you think... It's a pity not to be in love at this time...?"
"..." She looked at her hand that had been taken advantage of and said calmly, "I don't think so."
Then, there was a frustrated sigh, "Then I'll ask again in ten minutes."
——
The flower of the mountain who actively exerts the shameless spirit of socialism and chases people vs. The taciturn and cold goddess
Intention:...