Chapter 268: Winter Storage

The first snow of 1961 finally fell; at first it was fine snowflakes, shyly swirling in the north wind, and by the second half of the night it turned into a goose‑feather‑like heavy snow, steadily covering the roofs, courtyard walls and the bare branches.

In the early morning, opening the door revealed a world of blinding white, the cold air hitting the face as if it could freeze a person's breath.

"It's snowing," Li Ping'an said, standing at the entrance of Xi Kua Yuan, exhaling a long puff of white breath. For farmers hoping their winter wheat would survive the season, this snow is an auspicious snow, but for city dwellers who live by rationing and calculating every mouthful of grain, it means travel becomes harder, firewood more expensive, and days have to be tightened a bit more.

Lin Xueqing bundled her son tightly, leaving only his big black eyes exposed; the little fellow looked at the snow covering the courtyard, waving his small hands excitedly.

"This snow isn't light; it might last a whole day," Lin Xueqing said, a little worried, "We don't have much coal left at home, we have to use it sparingly."

"Hmm," Li Ping'an replied, his gaze sweeping over the pile of coal blocks covered by snow in the courtyard corner, "I'll go check this afternoon to see if I can get some more." Though he has some connections, in these times energy is as scarce as food.

In the Front Courtyard, Yan Bu Gui's household had already become lively. Yan Bu Gui directed his two half‑grown sons, Yan Jiecheng and Yan Jiefang, to clear snow—not to clean a path, but to pile the snow carefully against the base of the wall and tamp it down with an iron spade.

"Dad, why pile it here? It's in the way!" Yan Jiefang muttered.

"What do you know!" Yan Bu Gui adjusted his glasses that slipped to his nose, "When the snow melts, the water seeps into the wall base, and in spring the wall surface will easily become damp! Piling it here makes it melt slowly! You don't understand a single principle of getting by!" He had calculated every possible risk, or rather, every extra cost that might be required.

In the Central Courtyard, the smoke from the Jia family's chimney was noticeably thinner than that from other houses. Jia Zhangshi, wrapped in an oil‑stained twisted‑braid cotton coat, stood at the doorway watching the snow, his Sanjiao Yan full of irritation. Bang Geng and Xiao Dang clung to the doorframe, eagerly watching other children occasionally run out to play in the snow, yet daring not to go out—their cotton shoes were already worn out and could not withstand the soaking snow water.

"What are you looking at! Go back inside and stay there! If you catch a cold, you won't have money to see a doctor!" Jia Zhangshi shouted irritably, while mentally calculating whether Yi Zhonghai would deliver this month's "relief" today, and whether he could ask for a few extra pieces of coal money.

Qin Huairu was inside, the snowlight from the window reflecting on the soles of her shoes, her belly already noticeably swollen. Her movements were a bit sluggish, a lingering sorrow etched in her brows. The child's months had grown, the consumption increased, and even the feeling of hunger was stronger than before.

Yi Zhonghai's relief was barely enough to get by; trying to save anything for production preparation was as hard as climbing to the heavens. Occasionally she would instinctively touch her belly, each fetal movement inside bringing her both comfort and anxiety.

In the rear courtyard, Xu Damao's household was quiet. Wang Cuihua got up early, stoking the little coal stove in the house until it blazed, steaming a pot of wo‑tou mixed with a large amount of wild greens and bran. Xu Damao stayed curled up in his blanket, listening to the snow‑clearing sounds outside, muttering curses in his mind. He despised this damned weather, and even more so the woman who had him tightly under her control. With divorce impossible, he didn't know when this stifling life would end.

Inside the Steel Rolling Mill, the roar of the machines seemed to be chilled by the severe cold, becoming a bit sluggish. Workers, clad in heavy cotton garments, moved slower than usual, their exhaled white breath lingering hazily in the Workshop.

Li Ping'an inspected the plant area, seeing many faces marked with obvious pallor and fatigue. The cafeteria at noon still served the timeless "three staples"—clear broth, wo‑tou, and boiled greens—but the vegetable leaves seemed fewer, and the broth even clearer.

"Director, this damned weather makes the brothers' patrols exhausting," Wang Dahu said, rubbing his hands as he walked over, his nose frozen bright red.

"Have everyone take turns go to the gate post room to warm up and drink some hot water," Li Ping'an instructed, "In these extraordinary times, we must ensure plant safety and leave no loopholes."

He knew that the more such times arise, the more people's hearts become unsettled, and the more guard duties cannot be lax.

In the afternoon, the snow gradually lightened, but the sky remained gloomy. Li Ping'an took the opportunity of going to the street office to run errands and detoured to his sister Li Pingle's house. The Chen family's large courtyard was even more crowded, the accumulated snow left uncleared, and it creaked underfoot.

Li Pingle was inside, knitting small socks with old yarn, and was delighted to see her brother arrive.

"Brother, why did you come? Such heavy snow."

"Just passing by to check on you," Li Ping'an said, taking off his cold‑laden coat and gauging his sister's complexion, which seemed a bit rosier than in recent days, easing his mind. He noticed a small cloth bag in a corner of the room, its contents—some red dates and soybeans—revealing that Lin Xueqing had sent them.

"How's your body? Any reactions?"

"It's fine, just sometimes feel weak," Li Pingle whispered.

Chen Jianghe hadn't finished work yet, yet the siblings were already inside. Li Ping'an reached into his chest and produced a small paper packet containing several pieces of dark‑brown jerky wrapped in oil paper; they looked unremarkable but faintly emitted a rich aroma unlike ordinary meat. They were made from wild rabbit meat he raised in the compound, carefully roasted with a trace of Spirit Spring Water, making them highly preservable and nutritionally richer.

"Keep this; when you feel really drained, chew a small piece, but don't eat too much," Li Ping'an advised, without elaborating on the meat's origin.

Li Pingle took it, feeling the weight of her brother's unspoken concern, her eyes slightly moist, and she nodded heavily, "Hmm, I understand, brother."

Leaving her sister's house, dusk was approaching. The snow‑covered streets were especially muddy and cold; pedestrians hurried, each wrapped in thick winter clothing like moving cocoons scrambling for survival.

Returning to the Siheyuan, every household's window emitted a dim yellow glow, appearing especially warm yet fragile against the snowy backdrop. Those specks of light seemed ready to be swallowed at any moment by the oppressive cold and scarcity.

In the Central Courtyard, Yi Zhonghai's house indeed echoed Jia Zhangshi's not‑small, loud voice, apparently arguing over coal money. Yi Zhonghai's suppressed rebuttal could be heard faintly.

In Xi Kua Yuan, Lin Xueqing had already lit a lamp and was mending under its light. Li Yaozong slept soundly on the kang. The pot kept a simple dinner warm—still porridge and wo‑tou—but tonight's porridge contained a few red dates that Lin Xueqing had carefully added.

Li Ping'an shed his icy coat, sitting on the edge of the kang, feeling the faint yet tangible warmth inside the house. Outside lay ice and snow, calculation, struggle; but this small corner of world was the peace he needed to protect with all his might.

This winter has only just begun. How to "hide" oneself well amid this severe cold and scarcity, to store strength and await spring, is the dilemma each person faces.

For Li Ping'an, this is not only a material winter storage, but also a trial of the heart, another severe test of his protective abilities. He gazed at the heavy night outside and the unmelted snow, his eyes calm and resolute.