On the outskirts of Yunshan Province, among a cluster of worn-down buildings, stood a single small courtyard house. Though the surrounding structures were in various states of disrepair, this particular dwelling, despite its modest size and aging walls, was surprisingly well-maintained.
The wooden gates, though weathered, had been recently cleared of snow, revealing faint carvings that had long since faded with time. While the house itself bore the marks of years gone by, it still held a certain dignity—a testament to the care of its owner.
Stepping inside, one would find a simple yet functional layout, characteristic of a commoner’s home in ancient China.
The courtyard, though small, was neatly arranged. A stone-paved path led from the entrance to the main living quarters, flanked by patches of earth where a few hardy plants peeked through the snow.
The house itself consisted of three main sections:
A small but practical kitchen, tucked to one side, with a clay stove and a simple wooden table for preparing meals. Bundles of dried herbs and vegetables hung from the eaves, while a few firewood stacks leaned against the wall—precious fuel for the harsh winters.
Three modest bedrooms, each sparsely furnished with a wooden bed, a small table, and an oil lamp. Thin fabric partitions provided minimal privacy, while the bedding was patched but clean, a clear sign of careful upkeep despite financial struggles.
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A central space, used for daily activities, featuring a low wooden table and a few stools. Though the furniture was simple and worn, it was arranged with care, giving the room a warm, lived-in feel.
The aged wooden beams and sloping tiled roof, though weathered, added a certain charm, blending practicality with quiet resilience—a reflection of those who called this place home.
In the central space. of the small courtyard, a young girl, no older than eight, sat on a low wooden stool. Her delicate features, round cheeks flushed slightly from the cold, gave her an innocent and endearing appearance. Though her simple winter clothing, patched and slightly oversized, hinted at the family’s modest means, her bright eyes sparkled with warmth and curiosity.
She tilted her head, looking up at the young man standing nearby. —a sturdy figure who appeared to be around seventeen years old . His broad shoulders and calloused hands spoke of years spent working on farms and taking on various odd jobs to support the household. Despite the hardships, he was well-built, suggesting he ate well enough. to maintain his strength.
If one looked closely, they would notice a subtle resemblance between the two—the same contours of their faces, the same slightly upturned eyes—clear signs of shared blood.
The girl’s voice, soft yet laced with worry, broke the quiet.
*“Brother Xun, why isn’t Brother Yuntai back yet?”
Xun turned his gaze to his younger sister, his expression gentle as he reached out to ruffle her hair. “Don’t worry, Little Yue. Brother will be back soon.”
His voice was calm, but deep inside, a flicker of unease gnawed at him.
Yuntai had gone out to gather firewood earlier that day. The household still had enough to last another three days, yet his younger brother was never one to rest idly—he always insisted on preparing ahead, braving the cold to ensure they had enough to last through the harsh winter.
But now, as dusk settled over the courtyard, Yuntai was still nowhere to be seen.
Xun clenched his fist, pushing down the growing sense of unease in his chest.
Where was he?