Hannah curled her lips and chuckled softly, "Are you here begging for shelter after winding up on the streets?"
George River's gaze settled on Hannah's eyes, intently observing her for a while before speaking again, "May I come in and sit for a while?"
The room was very warm, unlike the biting cold wind outside. Hannah was wearing only a long coat loosely tied at the waist, her clean, bare face still pure and beautiful.
Hearing George River's words, Hannah made no move, only responded faintly, "George River, you know it's not right."
George River's hands slipped into his pockets, slowly clenched into fists, his smile tinged with self-mockery and full of bitterness, yet he again pretended not to care, "Yes, indeed it's not suitable anymore."
In the quiet corridor, warmth filled the room, but outside, the cold was piercing.
The chill seemed to bore into one's bones, tightly wrapping around the heart, turning the wind into blades that slashed one's body with countless injuries.
