A fine, scattered snowfall drifted down among the mountains without warning. Sparse flakes struck the ground, whitening Hu Mountain's gnarled, desolate slopes.
Before a deep, bottomless cliff, Su Hongtu stood with his hands behind his back, his wide sleeves billowing. He paid no heed as wind and snow lashed his face. Instead, he wore a peculiar expression, as though savoring the crisp chill in the air.
"Si Peng, do you know what day it should be today?"
As his words fell, Si Peng arrived with the wind and snow, clad in a robe as red as fire. Amidst this world blanketed in white, he was strikingly conspicuous.
"I can't remember. Since the day the Great Snow Disaster began, there has been no point in keeping track of the seasons in Liang Prefecture."
Si Peng let his hands hang at his sides. His long hair had been combed flawlessly and gathered into a knot by an emerald hairpin.
A faint redness seemed to drift over his brows, while his eyes were sharp and unyielding. Like his overall bearing, he radiated blazing heat.
Though Liang Prefecture lay on Great Yong's border, its four seasons had once been distinct. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter had turned in their cycles without ever going awry.
It had also been one of Great Yong's renowned grasslands and horse-breeding grounds, raising and nurturing countless fine steeds and rendering tremendous service to the imperial dynasty's elite cavalry.
Yet with the arrival of the Great Snow Disaster, everything had become a bubble. There were no longer four seasons here—only deathly silence.
The warmth of spring, summer sunlight, and autumn harvests had all vanished. Only the bleak slaughtering chill and ice of deep winter continued to shroud this disaster-ravaged land.
Thus, there was nothing wrong with Si Peng's answer. Liang