The wind grew stronger, whipping against the body, becoming colder and colder.
Given tonight's weather, there were signs of autumn's arrival.
Ye Xiong distinctly felt that Yang Xiaoqiao's body was shivering badly, so he suggested going back to the car again.
But Yang Xiaoqiao, for some reason, became especially stubborn and refused to go back.
"I want to walk a bit more, to talk," Yang Xiaoqiao said softly.
Ye Xiong hadn't known when it started, but he realized that Yang Xiaoqiao's voice sounded different. By the light of the streetlamps, he noticed her eyes were moist, unsure if she was reminded of something.
"Alright, then let's talk," he agreed.
Ye Xiong glanced around and, seeing a corner where the wind wasn't as fierce, he pointed in its direction.
The two of them walked over and sat down.
"Tell me a story, okay?" Yang Xiaoqiao asked.
"I'm not very good at telling stories, but if you want to hear one, I can try," Ye Xiong said.
