The next morning, the snow in Xucheng had stopped.
Outside the window was a vast expanse of white. A few sparrows stared at the camphor tree in the garden of Villa 108, drawn by the scent of its fruit, but they didn't dare to approach, as if some ferocious beast lay ahead.
"There, there, Mommy will hold you," Song Yuncheng mumbled softly in her sleep, letting out a faint giggle.
Chen Yansen's brow furrowed slightly. He looked at Song Yuncheng with a peculiar expression, then couldn't help but chuckle.
But he didn't disturb her sweet dreams. He simply lifted a corner of the covers, pushed open the glass door to the third-floor balcony, and scooped a small pinch of snow into his hand.
Icy cold!
President Chen glanced back at the soundly sleeping Song Yuncheng, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.
He grabbed a handful of snow and packed it into a ball about the size of his fist.
'Oops, that's a bit too big.'
