When it snows in Shishahai, it feels as if the world has transformed. The sound of copper door knockers tapping against the wood startles the remnants of snow off the eaves, and on the way back to the room, Shen Zhixing’s palm remains firmly pressed against the small of Yulan’s back.
The blue-brick courtyard is coated in a thin layer of ice, and he sticks to her side, not daring to pull away by even half a step, terrified that she might slip.
"Watch your step." His warning, mingled with a puff of white mist, drifts over the top of her head. "I took a tumble here when I was a kid. It hurt quite a bit."
Chapter 127