Bo Xi glanced outside just in time to see a thick wall of snow being driven sideways by the wind. The flakes were no longer falling gently; they were slashing across the yard like white blades.
She hurried to shut the window tightly and fastened the wooden latch.
"It's a blizzard," she said gravely.
The room fell silent. Even the younger ones stopped moving.
"Heaven truly does not want us to live peacefully," Father Han muttered, his voice heavy with fear.
Almost as if responding to his words, a violent gust slammed into the house. The wind howled like a wild beast, circling and roaring around them. The roof beams rattled, and something heavy struck the tiles above with a dull crash. The door trembled in its frame, and the windows shuddered under the force.
Han Fei instinctively moved closer to Bo Xi.
The storm raged for what felt like hours. No one spoke much. They simply listened—to the relentless wind, to the groaning wood, to the unknown dangers outside.
Gradually, the howling weakened. The wind was still strong, but no longer violent enough to tear at the house.
Bo Xi exhaled slowly. "I'll put medicine on Mother's leg. Then we should prepare some lunch. Everyone must be hungry."
Han Fei nodded immediately.
"I'll start the fire," he said.
Father Han followed him into the kitchen with Han Bei to help. Even in disaster, there was comfort in doing something practical.
Bo Xi knelt beside Mother Han and carefully rolled up her pant leg. The swelling had grown more obvious, but thankfully there was no unnatural bending.
"It will hurt a little," Bo Xi warned gently.
Mother Han nodded bravely.
Bo Xi cleaned the area with warm water first, her hands steady and precise. Then she applied medicinal paste she had prepared earlier in winter, spreading it evenly before wrapping the leg securely with clean cloth strips.
Han Li assisted quietly, handing over cloth and holding the lamp closer.
"You are very capable," Mother Han said softly, her voice filled with gratitude.
Bo Xi smiled faintly. "We'll get through this together."
In the kitchen, the sound of chopping and the crackle of firewood began to rise again.
Despite the blizzard outside, warmth slowly returned to the small house.
In the kitchen, the air was tense but warm from the fire.
Han Fei lifted a large spoonful of lard and placed it into the iron pan. The white fat melted instantly with a sharp sizzle.
Father Han's eyes widened. "Why are you using so much? That's wasteful," he said anxiously, staring at the shrinking jar.
"It's not a waste, Father," Han Fei replied calmly. "My wife trains hard every day. She needs strength. And… she prefers it this way."
As he spoke, he brought out a whole chicken that had already been cleaned and cut into pieces. Without hesitation, he slid every piece into the pan. The meat hit the hot lard with a loud crackling sound, releasing a rich aroma.
Father Han frowned even deeper. "All of it? That's too much."
Han Fei turned the pieces carefully, making sure each side browned evenly. "My wife needs both meat and vegetables in every meal," he explained. "And today, everyone needs something warm and filling."
Han Bei crouched quietly by the stove, adjusting the firewood so the flames stayed steady.
"But still…" Father Han muttered, uneasy. In his heart, he worried that using too much food would cause tension later. Grain was precious in winter—especially after the disaster.
Han Fei shook his head lightly. "If I don't cook properly, she might scold me," he said with a faint smile. "Besides, this is for all of us. Father, just sit. We'll handle it."
Reluctantly, Father Han moved to sit on the small wooden chair, glancing around as if calculating how long their supplies would last.
After a moment of silence, he sighed. "I wonder how Han Wei is doing."
Han Fei's hand paused briefly over the vegetables he was slicing.
"Brother will be fine," he said gently. "They will manage, they are the well-off in their village."
Still, a thin thread of worry lingered in his eyes.
Soon, the vegetables were stir-fried and combined with the chicken. Steam rose in thick clouds, filling the small kitchen with a comforting fragrance.
When everything was ready, Father Han, Han Bei, and Han Fei quickly set the table together.
Outside, the wind still howled faintly.
"Wife, Mother, Sister—it's time to eat," Han Fei called gently from the kitchen doorway.
"Fei, Mother can't move much. I'll bring the small table. She can eat in the room," Bo Xi replied at once.
Han Fei nodded and went to help his father carry the dishes out.
Bo Xi fetched the small wooden table from the corner and set it carefully beside Mother Han's bed. Soon, Han Fei brought in a tray filled with steaming dishes, golden stir-fried chicken, green vegetables glistening with oil, and a pot of hot soup.
Mother Han looked at the spread and frowned lightly. "This is too much…"
"You're injured, Mother. You need strength to recover," Bo Xi said gently but firmly. "Please eat well. We'll eat at the main table."
Mother Han finally nodded.
Bo Xi and Han Fei returned to the dining table, where Father Han and Han Bei were already seated.
"Let's eat," Bo Xi said softly.
The family ate quietly. The earlier fear still lingered in everyone's hearts, and the distant howling of wind outside made the house feel small and fragile. Yet the warmth of the food slowly eased their tension.
After the meal, Bo Xi began clearing the bowls, but Father Han waved her away.
"We'll wash the dishes," he insisted.
"Yes, Sister-in-law, leave it to us," Han Bei added with a small smile.
Bo Xi hesitated before finally nodding. "Alright."
She went into the inner room to prepare sleeping arrangements. She laid out thick winter blankets, changed the covers, and added extra padding beneath the bedding to keep out the cold seeping from the floor.
When she finished, she and Han Li carefully helped Mother Han lie down comfortably.
"Mother, rest well. If you need anything, just call us," Bo Xi said softly.
Afterward, everyone except Mother Han gathered around the fire. The flames flickered, casting long shadows on the walls. Outside, the wind still howled, rattling the shutters from time to time.
The atmosphere felt heavy.
"I'll bring some potatoes. We can roast them by the fire," Bo Xi suggested, standing up.
Father Han immediately shook his head. "No need. We just ate. And we don't know how long this disaster will last."
"Don't worry, Father," Bo Xi replied calmly. "We have plenty of food stored in the storeroom."
She brought a few potatoes anyway and placed them in the ashes near the fire. The faint earthy scent soon filled the air.
Han Fei sat beside her quietly, their shoulders brushing. Neither spoke, but the closeness brought comfort.
As darkness deepened, they ate a light dinner and decided to sleep early to conserve oil and strength.
Mother Han and Father Han shared the larger bed. Han Fei and Han Bei slept in the outer room. Bo Xi set up a smaller bed and lay down beside Han Li to keep her warm.
The house gradually grew silent.
But the night was not peaceful.
The wind surged again past midnight, stronger than before. Something heavy struck the roof with a dull boom. Snow slid off in thick sheets. The wooden beams creaked ominously.
Bo Xi's eyes snapped open in the darkness.
She listened carefully, her heart steady but alert.
Winter had only just begun, and already, it felt merciless.