In other parts of the country, it was already deep winter, with less than half a month remaining until Spring Festival. Zhou Li recalled the climate in Yi Province; the coldest period must have already passed. Around Spring Festival, there would always be several consecutive days of fine weather that ushered in spring, and the flowers on Ziku Mountain would begin to bloom. Every year, Aunt Jiang would forcibly drag the three of them to admire the flowers.
But in this city, Zhou Li had yet to experience the cold.
Except just now. Cold showers were still very cold.
It was cold at night too. Stepping out of the bathroom, the wind hit him, making his skin so numb it almost didn't feel cold anymore.
Zhou Li stood at the balcony door, vigorously rubbing his hair with a towel. He wasn't trying to dry it completely, just getting it mostly dry before he hung the towel up and quickly walked to his bed to climb in.
The ladder creaked.
