In the snowy night, pedestrians speeded up their pace unconsciously and rushed home to meet their families. No one noticed the boys and girls hugging each other on the street.
Jibai struggled a bit, but he held him tighter.
Jibai finally gave up. She slowly raised her hand and grabbed the corner of Xie Sui's clothes. The black windbreaker had a very hard texture and wrinkled in her hand.
He smelled of menthol tobacco.
"Xie Sui, it's all right."
The corners of her eyes were slightly red, and her fine eyelashes were glued together with tears, looking pitiful.
He has a low voice: "Who is bullying you?"
Jibai looked up at him, his eyes were deep, and his truncated eyebrows smelled fierce.
She shook her head, sat back on the bench, carefully took out the evening dress, and showed it to Xie Sui: "The skirt is broken."
