At noon on the eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, the old north wind blew up the clear snow foam and made the pickled vegetable vat of Lao Yang's family at Taiping Bridge buzzing. Li Mingqiang pushed his dog-skin hat down, and his breath formed an ice skate on the brim of the hat, making his eyelids heavy. He raised his foot and kicked aside the frozen cabbage sticks beside the waste pile of Hongxing Steel Plant, revealing three frozen carp underneath - the fish's eyes were covered with frost, and their gills were stretched by the ice.
