The West Lake

Xia Pingan pushed the door open and took a step out. The world in front of him changed.

A moment ago, he was still in the misty wilderness. In the blink of an eye, snow had already covered his eyes. A Lake appeared in front of him, and he stood by the lake.

Snow fell from the sky. The sky, the clouds, the mountains, the clouds, and the water were all white, just like a freehand landscape painting. In the distance, they could see a long dam in the lake, connecting the two banks. The willow trees on the bank of the long dam were already bleak, like ink marks.

There was no one by the lakeside or the embankment. Everything seemed quiet and quiet, with an indescribable charm.

The door disappeared the moment Xia ping 'an stepped in.

When Xia Pingan started to look at the scene in front of him, he felt an inexplicable sense of familiarity. This Lake, this water, this mountain, this long dam in the middle of the lake, it was so familiar.