The winters in the north were bone-chilling, with fierce winds and heavy snowfall that sealed off the mountains, deterring anyone from venturing in.
The snow blanketed the grave that the Tomb Owner had prepared, while the city on New Year's Eve was always ablaze with firecrackers and fireworks filling the sky.
A man kept watch over a fox, a plate of sliced pig's ears, and a pot of warm wine.
The master's wish unfulfilled, he watched the sparks fly across the sky, and exceptionally, he poured a small plate of white liquor for the fox too, not caring whether it could drink or not, and while stroking its head, he said.
"The century's ending, we, father and son, have at least spent over half a year together, if we can't see tomorrow's sun, then tonight's drink will be our farewell. Come on, let's have one!"
With that, he clinked his little wine cup against the liquor plate in front of the fox.
