Jun Anhuangquan

Snow was falling at that time, and the young man, wearing a snow-white fox fur, raised a cyan bone umbrella to his head, wearing a jade crown and a white robe, smiling gently, like spring water. It was obviously the twelfth lunar month of winter, but Liu Sheng thought of the peach blossoms everywhere in March. Until many years later, she could still remember that night, the silvery moonlight, the flickering candlelight, and the gentle young man in the snow.