Shi Hao's Immortal Emperor Realm is unlike others', eight thousand years have passed, yet he still cannot traverse even a small piece above the heavens, illustrating just how boundless it is above.
...
In the village, the snow ceased and the wind calmed, as if the white world had been paused.
The snow gleamed with a lustrous sheen under the mottled sunlight, unimaginably pure and spotless like untouched white paper, even with one's face pressed against it, free of any impurity, with specks of fluorescence.
Beside the stone mill, a group of children with topknots tiptoed, happily licking the frozen icicles.
But after just a few licks each, their little faces turned red.
Li Zi Cheng, clutching a wine gourd, leaned slantingly against the firewood gate, watching those little kids lick the icicles, then pinching the spirit snow into adorable little rabbits.
The young men of today have grown into uncles.
