"Master? Master?"
"... I'll rest here for a while. Call me when it's dinner time..." Song Bing said lazily
"Yes, Master." Song Dongzi withdrew and closed the door gently. Sigh... My master is really good-looking and has business skills. But now that he is over 24, it is time to start a family. Miss Wang has a good family and is famously beautiful in the city, but why doesn't he want to get married? Song Dongzi couldn't understand.
At the beginning of winter, the mornings and nights in the Chahar area are cold, and snowflakes have already fallen on the Bashang grassland. The northwest wind is becoming increasingly bleak, turning the withered yellow leaves into flying. Smoke from stoves is lit everywhere, and people on the streets are wearing cotton-padded clothes. People in the north are like rice dumplings, adding more and more clothes as the twelfth lunar month approaches. Song Bing made several grain and grass transactions with the Mongols in Bashang. It is easy to snow on the dam, and the biggest fear is that the white disaster will cut off the food and grass in the long winter. These transactions were large and smooth, and the Mongolian people did not lower the prices.
Song Bingli stood in front of the window and watched the west wind blowing the fallen leaves, and the dead leaves were dancing like butterflies, and he didn't know what he was thinking.