Chenyuan tilted his head and stared indifferently at the strange hazy place that actually made people feel a little warm in the heavy snow.
Under the firelight was his preferred bliss, his everlasting night and immortal desire, and the most wanton gust of wind he had ever encountered while wandering around the world.
He saw his little girl drowned in the heavy snow on her eighteenth birthday, and his heart will always be trapped in this windless land.
Concept: There are no flat hills, only flowering swamps