As mid-December arrives, the chill of winter quietly intensifies, and the temperature gradually drops, as if every wisp of air has crystallized into ice, its touch chilling to the bone.
In this season, the day grudgingly shortens, while night greedily lengthens, wrapping the world in a deep shade of bluish-purple.
And today, coinciding with the Winter Solstice, the day with the shortest daylight and longest night of the year, even the sun seems unwilling to show up early, hesitant to rise.
In this cold morning.
Huang Jun holding Qingqing and Weiwei's small hands, slowly stepped out of the community gate.
Instantly.
A more biting wind hit them head-on, carrying with it the unique chill of winter, causing their family of three to shiver involuntarily.
Looking around, the trees along the street gently swayed in the wind, and the dead leaves, like fragments of time, danced gracefully on the ground, spinning tales of the quietness and solitude unique to winter.
