It's that autumn wind again, piercing to the bone, even when wrapped in a warm raincoat and scarf. The yellowed leaves, caught by a gust, whirl in a dance, only to eventually collapse onto the dirty asphalt.

Jiaoqiu can't stand the cold, the autumn slush, the leaden clouds that have been creeping across the sky since morning. And most of all, he hates it when a loved one does not understand the reason for his deliberate resentment.

Moze is a blockhead, he doesn't feel Jiaoqiu at all. She doesn't see his hints: that contemptuous look he gets in the kitchen after work, those perpetually pursed lips, the irritated twitch of Jiaoqiu's fox tail.

Moze is just a blockhead.

And then one day, when Jiaoqiu was conjuring up some kind of concoction in the kitchen, designed to be a panacea for the coming cold, a kind of peace came over him. He even smiled and hummed to himself as he danced around the kitchen with a bag of tomatoes to put in the fridge.

He even seemed to have forgotten how he told himself about his boyfriend's stupidity. He seemed to have forgotten about the offense, but as soon as his fox ears caught the sound of the door opening, a grimace of displeasure instantly froze on Jiaoqiu's face.

Moze came back late again. Hanging out with “new girlfriends” again? Or will he say again that he was detained at work? Jiaoqiu, leaning his hips on the kitchen table, waits patiently for Moze to finally appear in the doorway…