The wind grew stronger, whipping against them and growing colder. Judging by the weather tonight, it felt like autumn was arriving.
Ye Xiong could clearly see Yang Xiaoqiao shivering and curling up from the cold, so he again suggested they return to the car. But for some reason, Yang Xiaoqiao became especially stubborn and refused to go back.
"I want to walk a bit more and talk," Yang Xiaoqiao said softly.
At some point, Ye Xiong noticed a change in Yang Xiaoqiao's voice. Glancing at her in the streetlight, he saw that her eyes were moist and wondered if something was on her mind.
"Alright, then let's talk," he agreed.
Ye Xiong glanced around and, seeing a corner where the wind wasn't as fierce, pointed in its direction. The two of them walked over and sat down.
"Tell me a story, okay?" Yang Xiaoqiao asked.
"I'm not very good at telling stories, but if you want to hear one, I can try," Ye Xiong said.