The next day, the wind that had raged all night finally subsided.
Ji Huan gently pried away Dabao's little hand, which had been clutching the inner tunic at her waist all night. She slipped off the kang quietly, walked to the window, lifted the oil felt, and looked outside. Sure enough, it was snowing—and heavily at that.
The ground, the rooftops, and the treetops were all covered in a thick, silvery blanket. Nothing but a vast, boundless white remained between heaven and earth.
Everyone had been waiting for this snow, but it certainly had a sense of timing. Today was New Year's Eve, the moment the old year turned into the new. 'It would have been so much better if it had snowed after the New Year.'
But complaints were just complaints. No matter what, the New Year still had to be celebrated.
As the sky gradually brightened, the sound of firecrackers echoed from all corners of the village, an incessant CRACKLE and POP.
