Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

The next morning, just as dawn was breaking, Xingbao was still half-asleep in his warm bed, barely awake, too lazy to even lift his eyelids, when Guixiang gently shook him awake. Her small, crisp voice carried an unyielding stubbornness: "Xingbao, get up! You promised me yesterday that you'd continue copying poems after one night's rest, you can't go back on your word!"

Xingbao was shaken so badly he could barely open his heavy eyelids. He groggily looked out the window—the white paper pasted on the windowpane shone brightly in the snow, but the house was quiet except for the intermittent, rustling sound of snow sweeping coming from the backyard. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, his voice still hoarse and languid from just waking up, and mumbled, "Sister, it's still early. Listen to this noise, Dad and my older brothers just got up. I'll sleep a little longer, just a little longer." As he spoke, he tried to shrink back into the covers and bury his head in the pillow.

Gui Xiang didn't give him a chance to slack off. Seeing that he was still sleeping, she immediately stretched out her chubby little hand and gently tickled Xing Bao's armpits. "Giggle, giggle—" Xing Bao was tickled all over and could no longer pretend to be asleep. He woke up laughing instantly, his sleepiness vanishing without a trace. Helplessly, he pressed Gui Xiang's little hand down and slowly sat up, rubbing his itchy armpits as he casually asked, "Sister, you're so eager to get me up to copy the book, aren't you going to get up and grind the ink for me later?"

Upon hearing this, Gui Xiang immediately let go of her little hands, shrank into the quilt, pulled the blanket over most of her face, leaving only her round eyes showing, and said matter-of-factly, "I was worried you wouldn't be able to get up. I didn't sleep well last night while watching over you. I'll sleep a little longer. You go ahead." As soon as she finished speaking, her even snoring could be heard, and she was sleeping more soundly than anyone else.

Xingbao watched her fall asleep instantly, his lips twitching. He couldn't help but think to himself, "Could we have a miser in our family? He only knows how to urge others to work, while he himself is lazy and enjoys leisure!" Despite his complaints, he didn't say anything more. He quickly threw off the covers, put on his thick cotton clothes and trousers, slipped on his cotton shoes, got out of bed, wrapped his clothes tightly around himself, put on his hat, and headed out the door—he needed to go to the outhouse in the backyard first.

As soon as Xingbao pushed open the backyard door, a blast of crisp, cold air hit him, carrying the dampness of the snow. It brushed against his face, making him shiver and instantly dispelling any lingering sleepiness, making him fully awake. He looked up and saw his two older brothers, brooms in hand, bending over and sweeping the snow from the backyard. Their teamwork was impeccable; in no time, they had cleared a clean path leading to the side gate. A few melting snowflakes still clung to the damp, sticky soil, soft and yielding underfoot. In the morning light, they shimmered like scattered silver stars. In the corners and along the paths not completely covered by snow, a few clumps of weeds sprouted, their leaves coated with a thin layer of snow, their green a crisp, resilient green, standing out against the pristine snowscape, adding a touch of life. The snow on the ground wasn't thick, only three or four centimeters, gently shrouded in the hazy morning mist, gleaming with a soft, milky white, its usual harshness gone. The snow on the rooftops was uneven, melting to reveal the dark gray eaves, while the unmelted snow looked like a thin layer of cotton wool, streaks of white and black, adding a touch of warmth, like the perfectly balanced brushstrokes in a traditional Chinese ink painting. The distant mountains and forests were lightly wrapped in a thin layer of snow, entwined with wisps of morning mist, their outlines indistinct, leaving only a faint bluish-gray hue, like ink gently spreading, soft and elegant. The entire world was pristine, white snow covering the fields, dark tiles reflecting the snow, green mountains shrouded in mist, adorned with a few clumps of cool green weeds and a few rays of morning light—quiet and undisturbed, like a natural ink painting with delicate brushstrokes and perfect blending, subtle yet flavorful, so beautiful it was impossible to look away. Xingbao, who was initially a little aggrieved by Guixiang's "double standards," looked at the clear and pure snow scene, and his little resentment quietly faded away.

Just then, the older brother noticed Xingbao by the door, stopped sweeping, straightened up, and asked with a smile, "Xingbao, why are you up so early? Why don't you sleep a little longer?"

Xingbao stepped forward, looking aggrieved, and poured out his grievances: "Big brother, you don't know, Guixiang didn't sleep well at all last night. As soon as she heard you open the door and sweep the floor, she immediately woke me up. She kept nagging me to get up early and finish reciting the poems, but she herself just woke me up and fell fast asleep, sound asleep better than anyone else!"

Hearing this, the eldest and second eldest brothers both wore expressions of amusement and exasperation. The eldest brother put down the broom, went over, and gently patted Xingbao's head, softly comforting him, "Alright, Xingbao, don't blame Guixiang anymore. She was just worried about copying the book. It's nice to get up early and look at this snowy scenery. Look at those mountains over there, don't they resemble the poem you memorized yesterday that describes 'Suddenly, like a spring breeze overnight, thousands of pear trees bloom'?"

Xingbao looked in the direction his elder brother pointed, his gaze sweeping over the snow-covered mountains and the simple, white houses, his eyes slightly dazed—the snow scene in the backyard was already captivating enough, but now, gazing at the distant mountains, with their thin snow covering and morning mist swirling, it possessed an even more profound and serene atmosphere than when viewed up close. He then smiled and said, "Brother, I just recited this poem to you yesterday, you learned it so quickly, you can already use it! But I think this whole world is more like a beautiful ink painting. If we go up to the hillside behind, the painting will definitely be even more beautiful!" At this moment, his thoughts of copying the book were still there, but the clear and gentle beauty of the snow scene had quietly stirred up his eagerness to climb up and appreciate the view, the two emotions gently intertwining.

Upon hearing this, the second brother immediately went to the eaves, put down his broom, strode forward, took Xingbao's hand, and said excitedly, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's go up the hillside now!"

"Second brother, wait a minute!" Xingbao hurriedly grabbed his second brother, his face showing a troubled expression. He looked down at his old cotton shoes and said with a bitter face, "Second brother, this is the only pair of cotton shoes I have. If they get wet, I won't have any to wear. I still have to recite poems later! You two go ahead, I won't go."

Following Xingbao's gaze, the second brother looked at his shoes. These cotton shoes were the ones he had worn before; he knew exactly where they rubbed and where they were patched. He felt a pang of shame and said softly, "It's my fault for not thinking to save you an extra pair of cotton shoes. It's alright, I'll carry you to see them. I promise you won't get your shoes wet with snow." With that, he turned his back to Xingbao and steadily squatted down.