Wind, snow and frost

Wei Yu put down his pen, but he didn't mean to let go of Luo Tiantian. His lips were still close to Luo Tiantian's ears, and he said slowly word by word: "Luoyang City, Wei Wangdi... A poem with two surnames, you and me... Do you think it's fate?" "I hold a wisp of ink fragrance, and you smile with a low eyebrow. the years are quiet and good, and the wind and snow are heavy and frost. from then on, all the flowers are destined to bloom on the street. leaning against the window to listen to the rain, only each other. if there is an afterlife, I will still meet you and fall in love with you."