Yanjing finally entered the depths of winter.
Snowflakes flying in the sky had transformed from grains of salt to the size of goose feathers. From the head of the street to the end of the alley, a thick blanket of snow had accumulated overnight. A thousand miles encased in ice, ten thousand drifting with snow, the world had turned silver-white. Occasionally, a yellow dog not securely tethered would run across the snowy field, leaving behind deep plum blossom-shaped footprints.
Jiang Li stood in the courtyard, with icicles hanging from the eaves like the beaded curtains in a beauty's chamber deep within the palace, glistening. Early in the morning, as the snow had yet to stop, she wrapped herself in a snow-white cloak, nearly blending in with the color of the snow.
"It's way too cold." Tonger got up early to sweep the snow in the courtyard. The iron bucket left in the yard had turned into a lump of ice overnight, sticking up in the middle of the courtyard.
