The weather was cold, and it was nearing dusk.
In Gucheng, household fires lit up one by one, making the thick clouds seem even heavier.
The snow on the ground was a foot deep, and it was still falling, seemingly getting heavier.
A biting north wind lifted the snow from the ground, blanketing the entire Gucheng in white.
"Crunch, crunch."
Zhao Zheng stepped on the thick snow, carrying a sturdy rope on his shoulder, forming a forty-five-degree angle with the ground, his little face flushed red.
"Ah!"
He exerted all his strength, trying to drag the plow behind him, but the snow was too thick, and the plow was deeply embedded in it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move it an inch.
"Thud~"
He slipped, and Zhao Zheng fell into the snow.
Where he fell, he lay down, panting:
"Big brother, I can't drag it anymore!"
Zhao Xing pulled the plow out of the snow and leaned it against the wall, "Get up, go swap for the small shovel, and keep shoveling."
