Yaoxue Pond in winter.
There are a few winter plum blossoms slanting by the pond.
The petals are falling, and the fragrance is pure and distinct, like a frivolous butterfly.
The heavy snow broke the branches of the trees.
I stood beside Qiongxuan wrapped in a thick cotton jacket, looking down at my deerskin boots that were deeply sunk into the snow, watching them being covered by snow bit by bit and gradually disappearing from my sight.
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