Moonlight streamed through the window lattice, weaving a silvery white pattern on the ground.
Yun Tangyin held the warm steamed egg custard, the warmth from the edge of the porcelain bowl spreading up her fingertips, mixed with the sweet aroma of brown sugar, creating a warm sensation on her tongue.
Fu Yucheng sat opposite him, his military green cotton-padded jacket draped over the back of the chair, revealing a faded fleece under it, with a bit of soot still stuck to the collar, which he had picked up while stewing pork ribs that evening.
His gaze fell on her hand holding the spoon; her knuckles were swollen from pregnancy, yet she still deftly picked at the egg drop soup in the bowl.
"Eat slowly," he suddenly said, his voice unusually soft in the quiet night, like snowflakes brushing against cotton wool. "There's still half a pot of warm food in the pot. If it's not enough, get more."
The charcoal fire in the stove hadn't gone out yet, occasionally sputtering out sparks that cast flickering light on his profile.
Yun Tangyin put the last spoonful of steamed egg custard into her mouth, with a thin layer of frosting sugar still remaining at the bottom of the bowl.
Just as she was about to get up to wash the dishes, Fu Yucheng had already taken the bowl first, his fingertips brushing against her palm, still warm from the charcoal fire.
“You sit down,” he said, walking toward the kitchen, his cotton shoes making a soft creaking sound on the bluestone slabs. “I’ll wash them.”
Steam rose from the hot water in the pot. He poured some baking soda into a bowl, rubbed the rag around the porcelain bowl, and let the foam drip down the rim, splashing small water droplets into the wooden basin.
Outside the window, a sparrow had landed on the snow and was pecking at the bits of dried fish that Xiaolan had dropped. Its little head bobbed up and down like a tiny black ball of fluff.
The rabbit in the bamboo cage was probably startled and suddenly made a soft gnawing sound, probably struggling with the hemp rope again.
Yun Tangyin put on a cotton-padded coat and walked to the cage. By the moonlight, she saw that there was some dry grass stuck to the rabbit's fur. Its three-lobed mouth was moving very fast, and it was gnawing the frozen cabbage until there was almost nothing left but the root.
She reached out and touched the quilted fabric of the cage wall. The thick fabric blocked the draft, and the temperature inside the cage was much higher than outside.
When Fu Yucheng came out after washing the dishes, he had a cloth bag in his hand, with a crooked orchid embroidered on the blue cloth.
It was leftover scraps from when Yun Tangyin altered his cotton vest a few days ago.
“I just found it,” he said, stuffing the cloth bag into her arms. It was bulging and had a faint medicinal scent. “It’s mugwort that Director Wang gave me. He said it’s good for pregnant women to boil it in water and soak their feet.”
He squatted down and poured hot water into the basin, the fragrance of mugwort mingling with the steam.
The steam blurred Fu Yucheng's features as he bent down to adjust the water temperature, tiny water droplets clinging to his eyelashes.
Yun Tangyin put her feet into the basin, and the warm water flowed over her ankles, carrying the warmth of the mugwort leaves as it traveled through her meridians, dispelling the chill of the whole day.
Fu Yucheng's hand suddenly covered her foot, the roughness of his palm brushing against her instep, but the movement was so gentle as if he was afraid of breaking something. His fingertips kneaded her ankle upwards, rubbing away the slight swelling.
“Zhou Desheng said that when his wife was pregnant with their third child, her feet were so swollen that she couldn’t wear shoes,” he suddenly said, his voice muffled by the steam. “I’ll go up the mountain tomorrow to find some pine wood and make you a low stool so it will be more comfortable to step on when you wash your feet.”
He added a spoonful of hot water to the basin, causing tiny ripples on the surface, reflecting the light in his eyes, which shone even brighter than the embers of a charcoal fire.
The snow fell silently again in the latter half of the night, pattering against the window paper.
Yun Tangyin nestled in Fu Yucheng's arms, the scent of soap wafting from his sweater wafting around her nose, listening to his steady breathing.
His arms were wrapped around her waist with just the right amount of pressure—not too tight around her stomach, but enough to hold her firmly in his arms.
The sparrows outside the window had probably eaten their fill, and they fluttered up, the sound of their wings sweeping through the snow particularly clear in the quiet night.
As dawn approached, Yun Tangyin was awakened by the cold. She reached out and touched the empty space beside her, where only a trace of warmth remained.
She put on her coat and got up, noticing the kitchen light was on, its orange glow seeping through the crack in the door and drawing a warm line on the floor.
Fu Yucheng was standing in front of the stove, his back to her, his military green cotton-padded coat open, revealing the fleece underneath which was damp from the heat.
He was holding a rough porcelain bowl and scooping something into it, his movements careful, as if he were performing some solemn ceremony.
"Awake?" He turned around, his eyes still a little sleepy. "I just cooked you a bowl of millet porridge with some longan in it. Director Wang said it's good for replenishing qi and blood."
A thick layer of rice oil floats on the surface of the porridge, and the sweet aroma of longan mingles with the fragrance of rice, making it especially enticing in the chilly air.
He sprinkled a handful of white sugar into the bowl and stirred it gently with a spoon. The sound of the sugar melting was as subtle as snow falling on charcoal.
When Yun Tangyin took the bowl, her fingertips touched the back of his hand, which was icy cold, probably from chopping wood that morning.
On the stove were piles of chopped firewood, all roughly the same length, clearly having been carefully arranged, with the top piece still showing a fresh break.
The rabbit in the bamboo cage had woken up and was clinging to the bars, looking in the direction Fu Yucheng was chopping wood, probably because it recognized his footsteps.
While eating breakfast, the sound of snow sweeping could be heard outside the courtyard. The brooms made a "swish" sound as they swept across the snow, interspersed with the laughter of the military wives.
Aunt Li had probably come out again with her child in her arms. From afar, you could hear her loud voice: "Everyone, please sweep the snow in front of your door so the children don't slip and fall!"
Then came the giggling laughter of children, their joyful laughter coming from afar and growing louder as they approached.
Yun Tangyin looked out the window and saw that Li Sao's blue headscarf stood out in the snow. She was bending over to build a snowman for the child, her hands were red from the cold, but her face was full of wrinkles from smiling.
Fu Yucheng placed a red bean bun in her bowl. It was brought over by Aunt Li that morning; the dough was soft and fluffy, and the red bean filling was just the right amount of sweet.
“I’ll go help Zhou Desheng fix the chicken coop later,” he said, taking a bite of his steamed bun, crumbs falling onto his clothes. “His chickens were squawking from the cold last night, saying the roof of the coop was leaking snow.”
He added a piece of firewood to the stove, and the flames leaped up, casting their shadows on the wall, close together, like a painting imbued with the passage of time.
When Yun Tangyin picked up the embroidery hoop, the sunlight had already climbed up the window frame, shining through the ice flowers onto the red cloth, making the outline of the tiger-head shoes appear and disappear.
The pink thread moved across the fabric, the stitches as fine as footprints in the snow, each stitch imbued with the warmth of the morning light.
Fu Yucheng sat opposite her, twisting hemp rope. The hemp thread spun in his palm, making a soft friction sound. Occasionally, he would look up at her, his gaze falling on her slightly protruding belly, which held an irresistible softness.
The rabbit in the bamboo cage must have warmed up in the sun. Suddenly it stretched and yawned, its fluffy white body unfolding like a ball of snow melted by the sun.
In the distance came the sound of bugles assembling, probably other companies training. The sound was somewhat muffled by the snow, but it carried a sense of solid strength.
Yun Tangyin tossed a piece of dried sweet potato into the cage and watched the rabbit's three-lobed mouth move rapidly. Suddenly, she felt that the lively atmosphere in the courtyard and the rustling sound of falling snow were just like the way life should be—unhurried and gentle, yet warming to the core.
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