On the window ledge of the private booths on the second floor of the inn, pots of shilan flowers were placed. These flowers, which only bloomed in Beiman winters, were soft, pale, and as pure as snow. Outside the window, the snowy landscape glistened, and a young girl in a brightly colored dress tilted her head upward, looking at her beloved, playfully demanding a kiss.
Xie Jue's hands rested on his knees, clenched tightly into fists. He stayed silent, though the flicker of emotions in his eyes revealed a raging inner fire, restrained yet turbulent. Lan Ningzhen blinked regretfully, "Little liar."
