Chu Qiao stood there quietly for a long time until the soldier's voice faded away. The snow accumulated on his face but did not melt. The wind tugged at her sleeves as if to remind her of her old dreams. The sky was desolate and vast. Although the world was big, they had seemingly been abandoned by it. A massive amount of thoughts flashed across Chu Qiao's mind. She thought of the visions they had since young, their determination to make it happen, those passionate moments of anticipation and hope. She thought of the cold, dark prison cell they were locked in many years ago when the young man grabbed her hands and warmed it. Yan Xun had told her many things about Yan Bei with a bright look in his eyes. He painted a rosy picture of the snow, grass, and horses there, along with the Huolei Plains and Huihui Mountains. He said that the civilians there were diligent and kind-hearted, and that there were no conflicts. There was only peace and tranquility, akin to a utopia.