Northern Country's scenery was stunning, with a thousand miles encased in ice and ten thousand miles draped in snow.
Student Zhao Changhe, who often found himself bereft of poetry at the times he needed it most, now rode his horse across the vast sky with these verses incessantly echoing in his heart, not missing a single word.
Partly because the author was the person he respected the most, but also because, at this moment, his mood resonated similarly.
Every time after meeting Tang Wanzhuang, he would unconsciously slow down his racing heart no matter how tense or anxious the ambiance was—she always had that magical effect.
