No matter how much snow falls all over my head, I still feel sad.
Sooner or later the snow will melt
Like fleeting tenderness
We can't escape it.
I want to lock you up and make you my private property.
But I don't want to lock you up, otherwise you will no longer be you.
Chang Cong buried himself in the snow, as if whispering, "The golden lock has locked me up all my life."
Looking at the blurry white, countless snows are falling.
So strange
Tears that have long been frozen by the cold
Why did it still slide down?
Intention: None