At that moment, Ou Manhui's phone rang.
She snapped back to reality, glanced at the screen, and dismissed the call.
The phone rang again, and she dismissed it once more.
Finally, the ringing stopped.
She added him to the blacklist.
So be it, goodbye, and never to be seen again.
No matter if it's raining, snowing, or hailing, she has nowhere to hide.
The world, for her, is always cold.
The more beautiful the memory, the colder the reality.
On nights like this, it's still unbearably difficult, no better than before.
Ou Manhui eventually couldn't sleep, got up again, opened the curtains, the snow had already stopped, making the temperature lower, the air colder.
There was a thin mist on the window sill, making it hard for her to see the scenery outside.
She extended a finger, drawing something on the window sill.
She seemed to see herself many, many years ago, dancing gracefully amidst the fragrance of a garden full of flowers.
