Compared to winter, he adored this trinket more.
It is often said that men easily grow tired of the old and crave for the new, but for him, no amount of love seemed to suffice for this trinket.
As Zhuo Junyue continued to kiss it passionately, he felt an increasing sense of dissatisfaction, and unreservedly laid it on the bed.
Snowflakes were still fluttering sporadically outside the window.
Inside, a distinctive melody belonging only to them was playing out.
No matter how cold the winter was, the man beside her was always warm.
Here, Su Ningyan peacefully fell asleep in Zhuo Junyue's warm embrace.
In another place, within a dimly lit rental house, Jiang Xiaonan felt that her quilt was too thin, as if no amount of sleep could ward off the cold.
She had no choice but to get out of bed, and took out all her winter clothes to cover herself.
She coughed softly twice, curling up tightly.
