All Are Mortal Dust

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Nanshan Realm, Qingshan Town.
February 13th.
Night descended, the wind cut like knives, and snow fell in thick, swirling flurries.
Snowflakes danced through the air like sprites, their gentle descent casting a faint glow over what should have been an utterly black night.
Down a nameless ancient alleyway.
A few plum branches bloomed alone by the wall, braving the cold.
Only in such moments would these stubborn blossoms bloom resolutely in some hidden corner.
On ordinary days without heavy snow, there might still be vendors hawking their wares along this path, but now it was deserted—even the night watchmen had abandoned their rounds in such weather.
Not long after, the faint sound of footsteps drifted from the end of the street—a couple strolled slowly through the snow.
"I wish I could become the snow, so I could fall softly upon your shoulder, my dear..."
"And what if I were to raise an umbrella?"
"Then I would rest upon your paper umbrella, carried quietly beneath the moonlight, all the way home."
"And what if I brushed the snow away?"
"Then let it be—if I could linger for even a moment in your palm, that would be enough."
"My lady, to have married you in this life is the fortune of three lifetimes."
The man turned, his eyes full of deep affection for the woman at his side.
Indeed, there was a beauty in the north—peerless, standing alone. One glance could topple a city; another, a kingdom.
Her hands were delica