Cheng Weiyue noticed that when he looked at her, his usually neat and clean suit had been wrinkled by the jostling crowd, and his exquisite leather shoes were covered with snow water and mud.
His gaze towards her was anxious, panicked, and overjoyed.
His eyes were red.
Cheng Weiyue couldn't help but be moved.
What is love?
Love is the collapse of a pristine, clean snow mountain, the fall from a pedestal savored like sweet nectar,
love is the mutual gaze of an unguarded crowd, the coldest of people becoming believers.
He was her believer.
Surrounded by people, Zhou Jingwei could only see Cheng Weiyue.
They made their way through the surging crowd, step by step, until they stood face to face.
Zhou Jingwei looked at her with panicked eyes.
Cheng Weiyue opened her mouth, wanting to explain, "I'm fine, I...."
Before she could finish, Zhou Jingwei suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace.
Here, amidst the bustling crowd, he had no reservations.
