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The dimly lit sky, a streak of dawn, pierced through the dark night like a bright sword light, stabbing into the earth.
The breakfast shops opened their doors, the vendors' shouts arose, and office workers hurriedly walked the streets, squeezing into buses and subways—this is the norm of life.
A very peculiar young man, with hair as white as silver frost, had a hint of melancholy between his handsome brows, and his once brown-black eyes had turned blood-red, filled with jagged blood vessels covering the surface of his eyeballs.
Behind this white-haired youth, he always carried a misty white ice bag, with tiny ice flowers forming on the surface, the chill spreading from his body, deterring anyone from getting close.
