About This Novel
It's the same every winter. I always look forward to a heavy snowfall, not only on the top of the mountain, but also across the mountainside and in the villages at the foot of the mountain. Or, there is only snow on the tile-roofed house, just like the glutinous rice flour made by mothers for the New Year, and it only smells sweet. Such a wish is not easy to come true. The snowflakes only fall on the top of the mountain, and they melt far away before reaching the middle of the mountain. The sun alternates between light and dark rapidly, as if it can only make time lose control and become more blurred. No matter how sunny it is during the day, it's still cold at night, as if it's chilled to the bones. At this time, we either sleep or warm ourselves by the fire. In fact, after living in one place for a long time, everyone's lifestyle is very similar. No one goes to bed as soon as it gets dark. Even if the whole village is plunged into darkness and the room is dimly lit, they still have to warm themselves by the fire and chat until nine or ten o'clock before going to bed.
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