Chapter 117: The Will of the People

Tongxiang awoke that morning to the kiss of gentle snowflakes.

In the south, even the coldest of winters rarely saw snowfall, so the streets were sparsely populated. Venturing out from Green Stone Lane, one could spot many women sweeping the freshly fallen snow in their yards. The children were undoubtedly the most delighted for snowflakes offered natural entertainment, a novel amusement.

Daiyun rose early, meticulously brushing the snow from the branches in the courtyard. Her young daughter, six-year-old Pingan, sat obediently inside the main hall, savoring her meal—a thin porridge so watery one could almost see their reflection. Every so often, she glanced out the window, captivated by the snowflakes tumbling down.

From the courtyard, Daiyun called out, "Pingan, close the window. Don't catch a cold."

Pingan answered and clambered off the stool, tiptoeing to close the window.