The sky gradually darkened, and as winter set in, the days in Wangxian County grew especially short, with an early dusk. The cold kept villagers who usually chatted outside during the summer huddled in their homes, now only the moonlight reflecting off the blanket of snow provided a serene and chilly landscape.
Wang Anfeng delivered firewood to Wang Hongyi's yard under the cover of night, politely declining the invitation to stay for dinner. He returned home, heated a large pot of food, and fished out two or three pickles from another pot to go with the white rice and pork. Without changing his expression, he ate everything up.
He frowned slightly and said,
"Indeed…"
"This batch only has seventy percent of the flavor my father used to achieve, but the portion I sent to Brother Qin is almost indistinguishable from what my father made back in the day."
"I hope he'll like it."