"Is your nightmare over yet?" Wei Jin's wife, who was more than ten years younger than Wei Jin, turned over, muttered something, and went back to sleep. Weijin shook his cramped fingers and slowly stood up. The smell of blood began to linger in his nose. He raised his hand to wipe the cold sweat on his forehead. He walked to the hall and opened the curtains to look at the falling snowflakes outside. The snow reflected the outside very brightly. He opened the drawer again and took out a box of cigarettes. He took out one. His fingers were shaking a little. He lit it twice before lighting it. He put it in his mouth and took a puff before throwing it away. This is a habit he has developed over the years. He does not put the cigarette in his mouth to smoke, but watches the ashes fall off one by one, and then takes a puff until the end. And he only smokes one cigarette a day.
Intent: Romance