Reborn as a schoolmaster's little fairy

Lu Ziheng picked up the quilt and followed Shen Qinghuan. The footprints of the two people were deeply and lightly printed in the snow, creating a very beautiful artistic conception.

Although they have been confirmed together, they do not seem to have a group photo.

Unfortunately, the mobile phone was put away by the team leader, otherwise in the face of such beautiful scenery, Shen Qinghuan must take a group photo.

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Shen Qinghuan thinks that he wants a mobile phone so much that he has such a hallucination.

But when Lu Ziheng raised his mobile phone to shoot Shen Qinghuan again, the little girl looked at him in amazement. She was so cute.

"How can you have a mobile phone..." Shen Qinghuan didn't go on, because she knew that if Lu Ziheng didn't have a mobile phone, the extra warm stickers, sanitary napkins and brown sugar would not appear in the room.

Lu Ziheng also took the trouble to explain things a little, he Yang Yang mobile phone: "take a picture together?"

"Of course." Shen Qinghuan stands on tiptoe. As a result, when he is on the mobile phone, he notices that there are few software in Lu Ziheng's mobile phone, and he seems to be sleeping on the bus when he comes to Moshan.

Shen Qinghuan blushed: "this photo has no beauty. It's ugly."

"My little Qinghuan, even if you don't open the beauty filter, the appearance of plain face is also very beautiful in my heart." Lu Ziheng is very tall, so he automatically acts as a self timer. Before Shen Qinghuan can react, he takes a lot of group photos.

After all, Shen Qinghuan was possessed by her great aunt. After standing in the snow for a long time, she didn't have thick clothes. Soon she began to shiver.

Lu Ziheng walked behind her and circled her: "is it still cold like this?"

Shen Qinghuan's face began to burn gradually, and his heart kept beating. When the temperature of his fingers returned to consciousness, Lu Ziheng held his hand and wrote "Lu Ziheng loves Shen Qinghuan" under the letters she had just written

Maybe boys don't like to do those fancy things. Lu Ziheng didn't draw a heart between the two names.

"Why not use symbols instead?" When the little girl took a picture, she puffed up her cheeks and looked like a little puffer fish. "In this case, we can't be neat."

Lu Ziheng obviously didn't spell the letter Shen Qinghuan wrote. He thought it was a little girl who wrote it for fun.

Although the little girl seemed a little angry, she still photographed all the handwriting in the snow.

"When you go back to the imperial capital, you will send these photos to me."

"Well." Lu Ziheng bent down. The small stones in the mountain were still easy to find. He rolled two snowballs with his hands and folded them together. Then he used the small stones as eyes and mouth, "Xiao Qinghuan."

Shen Qinghuan thought that Lu Ziheng was a little snowman in his own shape. As a return gift, he no longer cared about his cold hands. He also organized a snowman and put it next to Lu Ziheng's little snowman.

The snowflakes fell on the two little snowmen.

Lu Ziheng suddenly raised his arm, pulled the little girl into his arms, and whispered in her ear, "do we count like this? We accidentally went to the white head?"

Shen Qinghuan leaned against Lu Ziheng's chest and heard the sound of his heart.

After a while, he took her hand and said, "OK, I'll take you to a place."

Shen Qinghuan followed Lu Ziheng. She stepped on his footprints and felt warm in her heart.

As he walked, Lu Ziheng stopped. He stepped on the ladder and climbed to the roof.

Shen Qinghuan raises his neck and doesn't understand what Lu Ziheng does when he climbs so high at night.

"Xiao Qinghuan. You come up, too. "

"What are we doing on the roof?"

Lu Ziheng didn't speak, directly blindfolded Shen Qinghuan's eyes, and said gently in her ear, "I'll know later."

Shen Qinghuan said that when Lu Ziheng's hand was pulled away, for a long time, his vision returned to normal.

From Lu Ziheng, who is sitting beside him, we can see that the ink pupil is full of bright stars.