The taxi weaved through the city streets, and Su Ziceng suddenly remembered that she had forgotten to ask the old man his name.
The old man was right. No sooner had the car gotten halfway than a heavy snow began to fall, common in the north, like snow falling from a duster, pure white, piling up on the ground. Stepped on by children's feet, it became tightly packed, and it didn't melt away for many days.
A half-hour journey on any ordinary day took an hour and a half tonight. Every car was desperately crawling along, but fortunately, she finally arrived. "This damned weather, should've stopped running cars earlier," the taxi driver complained.
When the car stopped at the hotel entrance, the snow splashed onto the bystanders from the pressure of the wheels, and Su Ziceng quickly apologized. The one standing there, however, did not speak. She didn't take further notice either and hurried into the warmth of the indoors after paying.
