Early in the morning, the house was quiet, and in the northern winter, the houses were centrally heated. Zhuo Feng, accustomed to the south, found it a bit unfamiliar each winter after living there for a few years.
The first thing he did every morning was to open the window to let in some air. The cold wind brought the curtains along, and also a whiff of a faint fragrance that made one's groggy mind suddenly clear up a bit.
When opening the window, a layer of frost formed on the glass. Zhuo Feng pulled back his elbow and accidentally hit a daffodil pot.
Zhuo Feng looked down, "Where did this daffodil come from?"
