Spring came a little later in Jiangcheng this year, and Xinhua Road was like an old man who was used to hard times, guarding against the coldness of the remaining winter. The night breeze that stayed up all night, and the drunken Ms. Zhao holding a street lamp and talking to each other, were frozen outside the window of Jiang Yan's car.
"When did you start liking me?"
"When the wind blows your hair at night."
Purpose: Love and growth