Gwof found the Farmer's Wife's chatter about being "clingy" and "around the same age" rather obscure.
Whether in his past life or the present, he understood nothing about girls.
But seeing the kind smile crinkling the corners of the Farmer's Wife's eyes, he nodded noncommittally. He pulled the brim of his hat low, completely concealing the bewilderment in his eyes, making it seem as if he had actually taken her words to heart.
Before long, Leah had finished changing into the cotton shoes the Farmer's Wife had found for her.
A crooked dandelion was embroidered on the upper; though the stitching was coarse, the cotton padding was thick. Stepping in them felt like being wrapped in a warm stove.
She held Ugly Duckling in her arms—the little fellow had woken up at some point and was now huddled in the crook of her arm. Its featherless skin felt a bit hot from her body heat, but its black-bean-like eyes darted around, curiously scanning the wooden table and ceramic jars in the room, even staring at the pile of potatoes in the corner for a long time.
Leah walked to the table with a flushed face, her fingers twisting her skirt. Seeing that Gwof was only focused on drinking his milk and hadn't mentioned her crying earlier, she quietly breathed a sigh of relief. She picked up a piece of bread and began nibbling on it in small bites, her cheeks moving like a startled hamster's.
This breakfast was exceptionally peaceful.
White steam rose from the coarse porcelain bowl of hot milk, mixing with the charred aroma of toasted bread as it drifted through the room.
The eggs the Farmer's Wife had just fried were a golden yellow; a gentle poke with a fork sent the runny yolk flowing down the egg white, coated with a few grains of salt, so fresh it made the tongue quiver.
Leah broke off a breadcrumb and placed it in her palm for Ugly Duckling, who pecked at it with great joy. Its bald head bobbed up and down, looking much more energetic than yesterday.
Little Bottle had stuffed the wheat cakes given by the Farmer's Wife into his mouth until his cheeks were bulging and shiny with grease. He didn't forget to glance over at Leah every now and then; seeing that she had almost finished the eggs in her bowl, he pushed his own plate toward her.
Gwof didn't eat much, only holding his milk bowl and drinking sip after sip. Milk stains stuck to the corners of his mouth, which he casually wiped away with the back of his hand.
After the meal, the Farmer rubbed his hands, which were red from the cold, and glanced out the door at the swirling snow, repeatedly trying to persuade them to stay.
"The snow outside is still falling like winnowed chaff. Why not rest for another half-day? It won't be too late to leave once the sun comes up and the snow lets up a bit."
The Farmer's Wife also started walking toward the kitchen. "Yes, yes, let me prepare some more bread and wrap it with some sauced meat so you can keep it warm on the road!"
Gwof shook his head and placed the empty milk bowl on the table. The porcelain bowl collided with the wooden table, making a crisp sound.
"No, we have a journey to make."
His tone was flat, but his words carried a certainty that brooked no refusal.
The Farmer wanted to say more, but Gwof pressed a hand on his: "We're leaving."
The two words were stated plainly, yet they made the Farmer swallow the words at the tip of his tongue. He only rubbed his hands, his eyes full of reluctance.
When they went out, the Farmer's Wife had already led two donkeys to the courtyard gate.
The saddles were padded with thick felt, and the edges were sewn with a layer of rabbit fur, feeling soft to the touch.
A cotton quilt was strapped to the donkey's back, tied securely with hemp rope, looking very warm.
Gwof first helped Leah onto one of the donkeys. The Ugly Duckling in her arms flapped its wings twice, presumably finding the ride bumpy, before finally huddling obediently on her lap and burying its head in its downy fluff, motionless.
He then mounted the other donkey. As soon as he was settled, he leaned back and lay down decisively, his head resting on the saddle and the brim of his hat covering most of his face, revealing only his sharp jawline. Looking completely relaxed, it was as if he had treated the donkey's back as his own soft couch.
"Little Bottle,"
Gwof glanced at the burly man beside him who was vigorously munching on a wheat cake. His voice drifted out from under his hat, slightly muffled.
"Lead the donkeys well."
Little Bottle made a bitter face, stuffed the last bite of the cake into his mouth, swallowed it whole, and wiped his greasy mouth.
"Don't worry, Master!"
He ran to the two donkeys in a few strides, clutching a rein in one hand while not forgetting to stuff a piece of cured dried meat into his mouth with the other, saying indistinctly,
"Sit tight!"
The Farmer and the Farmer's Wife stood at the courtyard gate, waving their red, frozen hands. Their voices were somewhat scattered by the wind and snow.
"Be careful on the road!"
"Really, come visit when you have time! I'll make lamb soup for you!"
Leah also waved her small hand, her voice crisp and clear, like a string of silver bells ringing in the wind and snow.
"Thank you, Uncle and Auntie! We'll remember!"
Gwof looked up from under his hat and glanced back.
The simple farmhouse emitted curls of cooking smoke amidst the white snow. The Farmer's Wife's blue headscarf and the Farmer's coarse cloth jacket were particularly conspicuous at the door, like two old scholar trees guarding their home in the wind and snow.
He didn't speak, only gently nudged the donkey's belly with his heels.
The donkey walked forward through the snow with a 'clatter-clatter,' its hooves sinking into the ankle-deep accumulation and leaving strings of round pits that were quickly filled by new snow.
The farewells of the Farmer and his wife were gradually swallowed by the wind and snow. Finally, only a vast expanse of white remained, and even that bit of stubborn cooking smoke eventually dissolved into the leaden-gray sky without leaving a trace.
And so they proceeded through the wind and snow.
The donkey's hooves stepped on the snow, making soft 'crunch-crunch' sounds, carving two lines of crooked marks in the boundless white.
The wind swirled snow against their faces. Gwof lay on the donkey's back, his hat covering most of his face; only his exposed jaw was dusted with a few snowflakes, yet he didn't feel cold.
Wrapped in the quilt given by the Farmer's Wife, Leah only showed her bright eyes. Seeing the snow on both sides getting thinner and thinner, she was wondering why when she suddenly heard Little Bottle let out an 'Eh?'
"How come there's no more snow?"
She poked her head out to look, and sure enough—a few steps ahead, the snow came to an abrupt halt, as if someone had sliced it with a knife.
Behind them was still a vast expanse of white with wind and snow everywhere;
In front, the brown earth was exposed, and even the air felt a few degrees warmer. The wind carried the fragrance of plants and trees; there wasn't the slightest hint of winter left.
Gwof also sat up.
He had never seen a place where the snow line was so cleanly divided; it was like a painting that had been split apart.
"Stop."
He said. The donkey let out a bray and stopped at the edge of the snow line.
Little Bottle also stopped while leading the donkeys. He reached out to touch the snow, then felt the grass on the other side, clicking his tongue in wonder: "Truly amazing!"
Leah slid down from the donkey's back.
She spun around on the grass. Her thin cotton shoes stepped on the soft meadow, and the warmth seeped through to the soles of her feet.
"It's really not cold anymore!"
She looked up, and sunlight filtered through the sparse branches overhead, casting mottled patches of light on her face, feeling warm and cozy.
"Look, Gwof, there are even clouds in the sky! White ones, like cotton candy!"
"Change your clothes."
Gwof suddenly spoke, his gaze falling on Leah—the little girl was still wrapped in that thick quilt. Her cheeks were flushed, a layer of fine sweat had broken out on the tip of her nose, and the stray hairs at her temples were damp with sweat.
Only then did Leah realize. She quickly untied the hemp rope on the quilt, revealing the thick cotton jacket she wore inside; the collar was almost soaked with dark sweat marks.
Little Bottle fished out a light brown thin jacket from the pack hanging on the donkey. The fabric was breathable fine linen. As he handed it over, he didn't forget to wink.
"Leah, if you keep being bundled up like that, you'll get heat rash. When you turn into a bunch of little red bumps, you won't be pretty anymore."
Leah took the jacket with a blushing face.
Gwof and Little Bottle had it easier; they were already wearing autumn traveling clothes. They simply raised their hands to shake the snow off their hat brims. The snowflakes fell onto the grass and melted instantly.
Little Bottle also took the opportunity to stretch, raising his arms high toward the sky. His joints made 'crack-crack' sounds as he muttered,
"This is much more comfortable."
Before long, Leah had finished changing her clothes.
The light brown cloth dress made her skin look even fairer. Several clusters of pale yellow daisies were embroidered on the skirt, looking like butterflies in flight as she moved.
Her blonde hair draped loosely over her shoulders, shimmering like honey in the sunlight. She was far more agile than when she was wrapped in the quilt, her every step carrying a light breeze.
The Ugly Duckling in her arms also poked its head out. When the warm wind blew over its bald skin, it actually relaxed a bit, no longer huddled in a ball as before.
Gwof glanced at the snow still falling on the other side of the snow line—the snowflakes were as dense as scattered salt—then turned his head to look at this side. The sunlight was just right, the wind carried a sweetness like osmanthus fragrance, and the grass blades swayed in the wind with a soft rustle.
He suddenly smiled, the corners of his mouth curving into a slight arc: "Let's go, let's head in and take a look."
The donkey started walking again. This time, stepping on the grass, the sound of its hooves was much lighter, a 'tap-tap-tap' that sounded like it was humming a tuneless song.
Just a few steps into the forest, they heard the 'chirp-chirp' of birds from the branches. Several birds with colorful feathers flapped their wings and flew overhead, carrying bright red berries in their beaks. The wind from their wings carried a fruity fragrance, making it much livelier than the dull gray Sparrows in the snow.
Leah reached out to catch a falling withered leaf. The edges of the leaf were tinged with golden yellow, as if someone had traced them with gold.
She twirled the leaf, then turned to look at Gwof, her eyes shining and her voice crisp.
"It feels like autumn here! Look at this leaf!"
Gwof gave an "Mm," but his gaze swept across the surrounding trees.
These trees grew exceptionally tall, their trunks so thick they would take several people to encircle. The bark was dark brown with cracked patterns, like the wrinkles on an old man's face.
Dark green vines were wrapped around the trunks, and sparse white flowers bloomed on the vines. The petals were as thin as paper; only by getting close could one smell a faint, lingering fragrance that seemed to be mixed with a bit of honey and a hint of bitterness.