Snow had fallen for several days, and the mountain was enveloped in a white expanse, branches encased in ice. When the wind moved the branches, the ice crystals collided and produced a delicate and pleasant sound, like that of wind chimes.
Yuncheng was walking ahead, and Nianhe followed, stepping into his footprints. After a while, she reached out and tugged at the hem of Yuncheng's clothes.
Yuncheng immediately stopped and turned around to ask her, "Tired? Should I carry you?"
Nianhe looked back at the winding path of some twenty meters and truly couldn't understand why Yuncheng would suggest she was tired.
She exhaled a cloud of mist, smiling as she said, "Not tired, just afraid of getting lost, wanted to hold onto you."
Yuncheng's eyes filled with tenderness, he reached out his hand to her, signaling her to hold his hand.
Their hands clasped together, separated by gloves, and Nianhe held on a bit tighter.
The snow under their feet crunched, squeaking as if crying for help.
