Ten years later, on a winter night with sporadic snowfall, He Xun dragged his luggage back to Yangzhou. The evening stars shone brightly on the country road, but he did not expect that the snowy road without Qianhe would be so long and bone-chilling.
Fortunately, at a pavilion not far from home, Chiwa, who was afraid of the cold, was relaxing and building a snowman waiting for him.
The snowman looked ugly, but Chiwa said it was him who made it.
Intent: Love is just a subject