The sixth day of the first lunar month.
Snow capped mountains stretched into the distance, with half-foot-long icicles hanging from the eaves.
Last night, Pingyang County was blessed with a rare heavy snowfall, so deep that it covered half a foot, a sight not seen in two or three years.
Sitting quietly under the eave, Liang Qu watched the salt-grain-sized ice crystals bounce from the snow mantle, hopping into the accumulation of snow.
There was no training, no reading, no trivial matters.
Just breathing, inhaling and exhaling.
With each rise and fall of his chest, he savored the severe cold of winter.
That sense of coldness, free of all discomfort, penetrated his lungs and became, in moments of leisure, a kind of different clarity.
In life, what people seek is nothing more than security.
The sixth day.
Spent the entire day sitting quietly, listening to the slipping snow.
"Milord! River God Fan, Lord Fan is here!"
"Let him in."
