The flame in the fire pit was burning vigorously. The soup in the large clay pot was steaming and boiling, and the black dog meat pieces were rolling about restlessly in the bubbling water. Li Xin stuck out his tongue and moistened his lips as he carefully controlled the fire. Every now and then, he would take a deep breath and show a look of drooling for the delicacy.
Inside the house, the sound of boiling water filled the air, while large sheets of snowflakes kept falling from the sky outside. They landed on the roof and ground while making rustling noises. From afar came the crowing of cocks and the barking of dogs, and the voice of villagers greeting. All the surrounding noises had set off a clear contrast to the quietness inside the house, making Zhang Yi's voice sound calmer and aged. It was as if an old ghost who had died for over few thousand years was doing some ghost talks here.
