Zhao Hanzhang stepped on the snow, her breath turning into white mist, blurring her vision. She looked into the distance, seeing nothing but white, with only a line of poetry remaining in her mind: Northern scenery, thousands of miles of ice, thousands of miles of snow drifting.
She turned to Yin Sheng and asked, "Are all these lands lost?"
Yin Sheng gritted his teeth and said, "Yes."
This vast expanse of farmland was just outside the eastern outskirts of the city, not far beyond the city gates.
The terrain of Nanyang Country is flat, and this area in Lu Yang is mostly plains with few hills, and the roads here are flanked mostly by pastures that were once farmland.
Zhao Hanzhang walked to a patch of land, lifted her foot to brush away the snow on top, underneath lay germinated wheat about a finger's length.
Seeing the wheat, she couldn't help but smile, "With two consecutive snowfalls, next year should be a good harvest year, right?"
