Just as he finished speaking, the bell tower of No. 6 Middle School rang in the distance.
Max Ye followed the sound of the bell and counted twelve times, then said with some regret: "Ah...it's over, and I haven't made a wish yet."
Ethan Cheng turned back and continued pushing the cart. The snow on the path was as high as his ankles, leaving a trail of footprints and a winding rut. Max Ye lowered his head and followed the footprints he left step by step, feeling that this was safer than walking anywhere else.
Because of the traffic on the road, the snow had not yet accumulated. Ethan Cheng had just ridden three or five meters when he heard Max Ye muttering behind him: "Why can't I ride it?"
Looking back to check, I saw the front tire lying limply on the ground, as if it had been punctured by something sharp.
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