Courtyard House: Rebirth of a Shopkeeper in 1937

Xingbao hesitated, torn between his eagerness to climb high and fully appreciate the ink-wash snowscape—he had already been amazed by the view from afar, and he was truly curious about what it would look like from the top of the hill, overlooking the entire snow-covered village; and his own desire to finish memorizing the poems in his book today—he even planned to use this opportunity to secretly add in the poems he remembered from his previous life. Last night, he had specifically asked Guixiang and learned that she only remembered the first few poems, and only had a vague impression of the rest. Even if he added more poems, she certainly wouldn't suspect anything. The gentle beauty of the snowscape and his obsession with copying the book tugged at his heartstrings.

Seeing that Xingbao was hesitant to move, the eldest brother assumed he was afraid of falling, so he put down the broom and came over, saying with a smile, "Xingbao, don't be afraid. Second brother will carry you, and eldest brother will support you from behind. I promise you won't fall."

Seeing that his eldest and second eldest brothers were so insistent, Xingbao no longer hesitated and said with a smile, "Then thank you, eldest and second eldest brothers!" As he spoke, he gently leaned on his second eldest brother's back, hugged his neck tightly with both hands, and pressed his body firmly against him.

The second brother steadily helped Xingbao to his feet, then grabbed a sturdy stick from beside the woodshed to use as a walking stick. The eldest brother supported Xingbao's back with one hand and carried a broom in the other. The three of them went out through the side door and slowly walked up the winding mountain path. The snow under their feet crunched underfoot, the crisp sound of snowflakes being compacted. Behind them, a trail of dark and light black footprints stood out against the pristine white snow. The mountain path was exceptionally slippery after the snowfall, with a thin layer of ice still clinging to the gravel. The two walked with extra caution, their steps extremely light and slow, several times slower than usual. It took them quite a while to reach a flat area on the hillside. The eldest brother put down his broom and gently swept away a small patch of snow, revealing several clumps of cold green weeds underneath. Unmelted snowflakes still clung to their leaves, their green a crisp, resilient green. The dry weeds provided a more stable footing, so he signaled to his second brother to gently set Xingbao down. As they climbed uphill through the snow-covered landscape, Xingbao, clinging to his second brother's back, gazed at the snow-covered vegetation on either side and the hazy mountains in the distance. His obsession with copying books faded slightly, replaced by a deep anticipation for the view from the summit.

As soon as he stood still, Xingbao eagerly looked up and took in the entire mountain village, even more stunning than he had imagined: two rows of houses built along the ancient road, their black tiles covered in snow, were arranged in a pleasing, staggered pattern, with wisps of smoke rising from some of the eaves, mingling with the morning mist; the small river beside the village, steaming and meandering through the village like a shimmering silver ribbon, dispelled the surrounding chill; in the scattered cabbage fields, the lush green cabbages, topped with a thin layer of snow, stood out vividly against the white backdrop; the surrounding mountains, lightly draped in snow, had soft outlines, appearing even more delicate and charming in this white world, like the verdant peaks in a traditional Chinese ink painting. A gentle breeze swept by, carrying the crispness of the snow and the warmth of the village's cooking fires below, its touch on his face not as biting as usual. Gazing at the clear, soft snowscape before him, at the harmonious blend of human warmth and natural beauty, Xingbao's distracting thoughts gradually dissipated, and his obsession with copying books completely faded, leaving only a sense of ease and awe. He secretly thought that as the sun slowly rose, the snow melted, the heat rose, and the clouds swirled, this place would become even more mysterious, like a fairyland. At this moment, all the waiting and hesitation seemed exceptionally worthwhile, and he was glad he hadn't missed such a beautiful sight.

Just then, Xingbao glanced down and saw his father leading several guests who had just finished breakfast out of the shop. The guests were bundled up tightly, looking hurried, clearly wanting to set off early before the snow completely melted and the roads became muddy, so as not to delay their journey. When his father looked up, he obviously noticed the three brothers on the hillside. His gaze swept over them, but he didn't scold them for being lazy. He simply waved his hand gently, then turned and went into the shop to continue his chores. This gentle, homely atmosphere warmed Xingbao's heart, blending with the snowy scene before him, making him feel exceptionally at ease.

Meanwhile, villagers began to open their doors, mostly toddlers emerging from their homes. Wrapped in thick cotton coats, their little hands red from the cold, they trudged through the soft snow, leaving trails of small, shallow footprints. They called out to their friends from house to house, their clear voices echoing through the valley. Soon, the snowfield was filled with children, their laughter rising and falling. They huddled together, throwing snowballs at each other, playing a lively snowball fight, dispelling the winter chill. A gentle north wind blew, brushing against Xingbao's cheek. The crispness of the snow, the warmth of the cooking fires below, and the children's pure joy intertwined to create a vivid and moving scene, contrasting with the previously tranquil, ink-wash-like snowscape, making it even more vibrant.

Xingbao stood quietly on the hillside, gazing at the pristine yet vibrant snowscape before him—in the distance, snow-capped mountains shrouded in mist; below, villages with black tiles reflecting the snow; nearby, children playing and laughing merrily, the warmth of daily life perfectly blending with the beauty of nature. At that moment, the knots in his heart suddenly dissipated completely. The obsession with copying books vanished, as did his entanglement with the past and his fear of the future. The clarity of the snowscape gently washed away the heaviness and suffocation in his heart; the lively scene before him brought him to a complete awakening: he couldn't change the tide of history, his shoulders were too weak to bear the heavy burden of history. It was better to let go of distractions, do what he could, protect those around him to the best of his ability, protect the beauty and warmth before him, protect the clear snowscape and the vibrant village, and leave no regrets. Having figured all this out, Xingbao couldn't help but open his mouth and let out a loud "Ah—" to release all the pent-up frustration and heaviness in his heart. The sound echoed gently in the snow-covered valley, intertwining with the children's laughter, and was exceptionally clear, also revealing the ease and openness he felt after completely letting go.

Xingbao's heartfelt shouts carried far through the quiet valley. The children playing in the snow in the village soon heard the clear voice, stopped their snowball fight, and stood on tiptoe to look towards the hillside. They immediately spotted the three Xingbao brothers standing on the hillside.

The children instantly became excited, cheering and shouting as they rushed up the hillside, their footsteps crunching loudly on the snow. Fortunately, at the same time, the adults, hearing the children's noise, came out one after another and quickly stopped the younger children who were unsteady on their feet—the mountain path was slippery and difficult to walk on after the snow, and they were afraid that the little ones would fall and get hurt.