Little Cold Village, outside Crippled Li's house, San Gouzi was wearing a fur coat and a felt hat, his hands tucked into his sleeves as he paced back and forth, shivering.
Meng Zhao had not told him to come along, so naturally he would not presume to act on his own. But worried as he was, he came here every so often to wait.
He had spent the whole night tossing and turning, scarcely closing his eyes. Fortunately, he was young and strong; in his excited state, whether he slept or not did not matter much.
What concerned and worried him most was that Li Zheng might never return from this trip. Then the future that was practically in his grasp would slip away again.
That was the last thing San Gouzi wanted to see.
Fortunately, this brief wait had not been in vain. Before long, he saw Meng Zhao, wrapped in a black overcoat and carrying a huge bundle on his back, striding swiftly toward him.
San Gouzi was overjoyed. It had worked!
Without caring about anything else, he hurried forward. Under cover of the night, with the snowy night silent, he asked in a low voice,
"How did it go? You weren't hurt, were you?"
Meng Zhao shook his head and casually tossed the enormous bundle at him. The two pushed open the door and entered the house.
They stoked the firewood, boiled water, and cooked food. After a flurry of activity lasting nearly half an hour, the chill in the room finally dispersed, and a mellow warmth rose through the house.
Three small dishes and several large steamed buns sat on the square table. The most substantial item was the big pork bones San Gouzi had brought from home. Though they had cooled after being stewed, steaming