The downpour was like a big hole in the sky, hitting the dilapidated side courtyard of the General's Mansion.
The roof was too old and had not been properly repaired. The rainwater poured in through the cracks, and dirty puddles soon accumulated on the ground.
Su Wantang huddled on the damp and moldy bed. The quilt was as thin as paper and could not block the heartbreaking cold.
Her lips, which were originally bloodless, were now frighteningly white, with a sickly bluish-purple color.
My fingers were shivering with cold, like leaves about to fall in the autumn wind.
