Snow linked the heavens, and bird tracks vanished.
Several red corner flags bloomed on the silver-wrapped earth, and beneath the wind-protected nook in the mountain, there was a grass shed for raising horses.
In the silver, low-built house made of cooked earth bricks and rice paste, the wooden door was pushed open by the wind, spilling dirt and debris onto the ground.
Li Yan opened his eyes. He sat on a rattan chair, dressed in cotton armor with a round helmet atop his head, beside a blazing stove on which sizzled fat-dripping, golden brown venison.
There lay a liquor jar at his feet, still containing a little less than half a jar of yellow wine.
Li Yan had an indescribable feeling, as if countless twisted shadows were dancing on the yellowed parchment.
Over the years, all the encounters and worldly experiences of Earth Endurance in his stead, he saw everything clearly, but couldn't open his mouth or move his body.
