Chen Ningxi frowned, "Why are you standing there like a fool?"
The wind turned gentle because of her, carrying snowflakes to Cheng Qiaobei's head, cheeks, and shoulders. Each word she uttered, in his ears, was concern, nervousness, unspoken insincerity, the kind only a beloved person would fret over.
Cheng Qiaobei wasn't sure, he stepped forward toward her until they were face to face, close enough to see the snowflakes on her eyelashes, close enough to see the downy flakes on her shoulders.
They were drenched by the same snow; did they harbor the same thoughts?
Cheng Qiaobei gazed at her, growing fonder, the words hidden in his heart begging to burst forth.
A long breath escaped his nostrils, turning into a white mist before dissipating. He didn't know how to describe his feelings, only that his blood was boiling unusually, his heartbeat racing faster and faster.
"Anything else?" Chen Ningxi sensed his expression was strangely odd.