The biting wind was like an invisible file, scraping against the dilapidated mud roof.
The sound of sobbing echoed throughout.
Although the snow had stopped, the sky remained so gloomy that it looked like it was about to collapse.
The world, covered in snow, was silent and bitterly cold.
Shi Yangyang huddled beside the fire.
She was wrapped in that brand-new cotton-padded coat, which looked a bit too big. She hugged her knees tightly, her eyes staring blankly at the leaping flames, as if her soul had already drifted far away.
Occasionally, her gaze would briefly drift towards that busy figure.
A faint, almost imperceptible ripple seemed to flicker in those lifeless eyes, but it vanished in an instant, replaced by an unchanging numbness and vacancy.
The repair work lasted for quite some time.
When the last hole was finally plugged, the howling wind inside the room subsided considerably.
Zhang Cheng brushed the dirt and grass off his hands, walked to the fire, and stretched his hands, which were almost numb from the cold, towards the flames.
The warmth slowly seeped into the skin, bringing a tingling, itchy, and stinging sensation—a signal that blood was flowing again.
Night once again silently enveloped this barren land.
The temperature plummeted to an alarming level.
This simple mud house was drafty on all four sides. Even though the holes in the roof were plugged, the biting cold still seeped in through the cracks in the doors and walls.
The fire crackled and burned, the only source of light and heat in the cold space, illuminating the silent figures of the two people inside.
Zhang Cheng added more firewood to the fire to make sure it burned longer to ward off the long night.
He walked to Shi Yangyang's side, said nothing, but simply reached out and gently pulled her into his arms.
Her body was cold and stiff, like a piece of cold jade without warmth, and was still trembling slightly.
Zhang Cheng tightened his arms, trying to warm her with his not-so-warm body temperature.
The two huddled together by the fire, silently drawing warmth from each other to ward off the long, bitterly cold winter night.
Zhang Cheng closed his eyes, clearly feeling the fragile life in his arms.
A heavy sense of responsibility weighed on his heart, heavier than the biting cold.
He knew this was just the beginning.
To survive, and to survive with her, is a long and arduous road.
Zhang Cheng woke up the next morning from the cold.
The fire had long since died out, leaving only a few dark red embers.
The air inside was as cold as an ice cellar, and breathing it in felt like breathing in ice shards.
He carefully released Shi Yangyang, who was still fast asleep in his arms, and gently tucked the collar of her cotton-padded coat in to keep out any cold wind.
Then, he quietly got up and moved his limbs, which were a little numb from the cold.
Zhang Cheng walked to the corner of the wall, picked up the half-eaten wild boar meat hanging there, and cut off a rather large piece of meat with a machete.
He relit the fire, placed the iron pot he had traded for back on the stove, and tossed in a few pieces of lard left over from last night.
The fat melted rapidly under the high temperature, sizzling as it did so, and a rich aroma of meat began to fill the cold air.
He cut the pork into appropriately sized pieces and threw them into the pan to stir-fry quickly.
No salt, no soy sauce, no seasonings whatsoever.
Only the most original and purest meaty aroma.
But the aroma was enough to make an empty stomach protest urgently, gurgling and rumbling.
The meat cooked very quickly.
Zhang Cheng glanced at Shi Yangyang, who was still fast asleep, but did not wake her.
He ate the whole pot of steaming hot stir-fried pork by himself, leaving not a drop of oil at the bottom of the pot.
The scalding hot meat slid into his stomach, quickly turning into a warm current that dispelled the chill deep within his body and replenished the energy he desperately needed.
He could clearly feel that his weak body was slowly recovering.
But he is still far, far away from being the peak special forces soldier he was in his previous life.
He needs more and better food to nourish this body.
After finishing our meal, we quickly cleaned up the pots and pans and hid the remaining wild boar meat away again.
Zhang Cheng prepared to go out again; he needed to hunt more prey as soon as possible.
However, just as they reached the door, a sharp and sarcastic curse, like a cold, poisoned arrow, came from the direction of the Zhang family's old house not far away.
"You damned ingrate! You heartless bastard!"
"He even dared to hit his own brother for a crazy woman! And he even demolished my house!"
"Why doesn't God send down a lightning bolt to strike you dead, you beast!"
"..."
The language was foul and offensive, each sentence more vicious than the last.
Zhang Cheng remained expressionless.
He knew that his mother's cursing wasn't just because of what happened yesterday.
Furthermore, since the family split up, he no longer allowed them to manipulate him as they had before.
He's no longer the "Second Dog" who could be beaten, scolded, and given whatever he wanted.
The sunlight shone on the pristine white snow, almost blindingly so.
He narrowed his eyes and walked towards the small side room where he had removed the tiles.
Last night I was so focused on removing the tiles that I didn't look inside carefully.
The door to the side room was long broken, and the room was filled with all sorts of odds and ends, covered in dust.
He went inside and began searching carefully.
He dragged out a few sturdy old bed boards.
It can be used to reinforce the door of a mud house, or to nail together a simple table.
In the corner, he found a chipped hammer, with only the iron hammerhead remaining; the wooden handle was nowhere to be found.
But this iron lump is quite heavy; with a wooden handle attached, it becomes a handy tool, and can even be used as a weapon.
In a pile of broken earthenware jars, he found a relatively intact clay pot.
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