Siheyuan: Snowbound Indoors, I Have a Soul Space

I transmigrated into the son of a farming family on the outskirts of Beijing in the 1960s, an eighteen-year-old farmhand whose father had become head of the household at thirty-eight. The snow was half a meter deep. After shoveling the courtyard and the path to the gate, I built a snowman on a whim. My grandmother was in her early sixties but looked nearly eighty. With her bound feet, she climbed onto a stool to reach the steamed buns. My sister and brother were arguing about going to school, and I blurted out that I wanted to go to Beijing to learn cooking. The old woman's eyes reddened. My soul dimension covered thousands of miles, so life wouldn't be too hard. I hadn't even moved into the courtyard yet, and I was already thinking about how to feed the whole family.