The snow fell slowly, each flake delicate like a feather, drifting down from the sky. Gazing out through the window, the world was embraced in a blanket of white, glowing like pure moonlight, slicing the room into a box of semi-lightness and semi-darkness.
Half drowned in shadows and half glowing in a ghostly white, from Song Qinghuan's perspective, the sight was eerily chilling.
Shi Yuhuan sat in the darkness, silent and motionless, very much like a statue.
As time wore on, Song Qinghuan, feeling her bum go numb from sitting for so long, massaged her behind and prepared to get up to persuade Shi Yuhuan to quit sitting and go back to his room to rest.
Just then, the villa's front gate was pushed open, and Chen Tian entered, his clothes dusted with snow.
It was then that Song Qinghuan realized, Shi Yuhuan had been sitting in silence all this while, waiting for Chen Tian.
