He turned and entered the office, where Mo Yichen lit a cigarette and stood by the window, beginning to smoke.
The sky was a dull grey, looking as if it were about to snow again. At this time in the past, Qiao Xinran would have certainly pouted her lips, grumbling unwillingly, "Mo Yichen, I hate snow."
Because when it snowed, she couldn't dress up beautifully and go out to play.
That way, she wouldn't be able to see him.
"Ranran, it's all my fault..."
Amid the curling smoke, Mo Yichen talked to himself, "I will definitely find you. When it's warm, we'll go out to play, and I'll take lots and lots of beautiful pictures of you. When it's too cold to leave the house, we'll stay at home, watch your favorite Korean dramas, or cook together."
"Ranran..."
It seemed as though the mere thought of this name filled his heart with boundless determination. Mo Yichen turned to look at the thick stack of documents on his desk, took a deep breath, and sat down again.
