After the trip ended, he and Ding Ning went to many tourist attractions with the tour group. Despite the crowds, he could still feel the beauty.
Without jumping visuals, there was a complex aroma among the crowded people, and they also went to see the sunrise at dawn.
The cold wind on the mountain during the summer night stung his skin.
He draped his clothes over Ding Ning's shoulders, holding her warm hand.
Different from another Ding Ning, this little Ding Ning's hand was warm, with a touch of temperature, unlike Ning from the other world, always cold without ever feeling the warmth that belongs to her.
"Ning, if this world is fake, will you remember me?"
"Why do you keep saying such things? Do you think I'm fake?" Ding Ning turned her head to look at him, feeling he was talking nonsense all day.
Always talking about true and false, she secretly pinched herself. It hurt, and she wasn't dreaming, so how could it be fake?
