Many, many years later, when Han Feng passed the broken bridge of the West Lake again, the rain hit his shoulders, clothes, and hair...
Just like the faint fragrance on her body, it was quiet and timeless, wrapping his tired body and mind...
"I like rainy days..." Back then, he stood in a green shirt, with his black hair flowing, and said lightly with his back to the woman he loved.
"But I... Hate windy days, and most of all the cold wind, what should I do?" The woman frowned and asked mischievously.
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PS: When writing this pit, I still used the old pen name, Xue Wu Ling Xu.
Conception: