On a windless night, on a deserted island, only the two of them were there.
The white fog grew thicker and soon enveloped everything around them, as if draping a layer of misty white gauze over their bodies.
There was originally no light in the water pavilion, and they were barely illuminated by the faint glow of streetlights from the distant lakeside and the lights of high-rises even farther away.
But as the fog thickened, they could only see each other's vague shapes; beyond that, nothing else was visible.
Yet, he could still see her clearly.
She lay on the gray stone table, looking as if covered in a heavy snow, and even in such darkness, her contour, her body, shone like the only color in this dark world, intoxicating him.
With all her clothes stripped off, lying against the cold tabletop, she was shivering all over from the cold. Her pale body, with black hair spread out, was like a quietly blooming flower, unfolding silently in the serene pavilion.
