There are all kinds of excitement in Beijing's bar streets every day. On the day of the beginning of winter, a young singer came to Bar No. 17. He had kind eyes, mean lips, and a good-looking face with a blush on his cheeks that was like a stroke of genius.
"This singer is a bit interesting." Meng Ge looked fascinated.
"Yeah." Zhou Shi in the corner took a sip of wine and replied unintentionally.
Several years later, Meng Ge asked him sourly: "Am I not your first man? Don't they say that people can never forget their first love?"
"You are just my first night, not my first love."
"Oh, Zhou Shi, right?"
When they first met on the day of Beginning of Winter, Zhou Shi was wearing a well-fitting dark gray shirt, buttoned to the first button. Zhou Shi was sitting in the corner. He had broad shoulders, a straight back, a stubby short haircut, a high nose bridge, and slender fingers. He looked like he was good at making love. It was clearly winter, but with just this glance, he seemed to see this short-haired man sweating profusely and breathing heavily in a hot summer room, with the fan squeaking.
Yes, it can only be Zhou Shi.
Friendly reminder: It contains bloody plot, please read it as appropriate.
Intention: Everything is fate, nothing is up to anyone
