On the third day of November, the dark clouds were heavy, and thick snowflakes fluttered down early in the morning.
Flakes of snow fluttered down from the sky, quickly covering the earth with a layer of white.
Jiang Sanlang and his two brothers, their father Old Man Jiang, and two nephews, gathered around a bonfire in the new tiled house, warming themselves and talking.
"Yesterday, the village chief notified everyone that the Imperial Court demanded grain. For every acre of high-grade land, they demanded two pints, and for each acre of low-grade land, one pint. Fortunately, we didn't sell our grain, or else... This time, they don't want silver, but only grain. It seems the price of grain will indeed rise this winter."
Old Man Jiang sighed, "With all these changes, who knows how many people will freeze or starve to death."