"Old woman, come quick! The boy moved." An elderly voice sounded by Ye Chen's ear. Ye Chen struggled to open his eyes. Above him was a somewhat dilapidated roof made of thatch.
A few stray snowflakes occasionally slipped through gaps in the thatch and drifted into the room, but before they could land on Ye Chen, they melted in the last trace of warmth in the house.
Ye Chen blinked slowly and felt a chill. He wanted to move closer to the heat, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't move his body at all.
"Old woman, hurry up! The boy really is awake. Is your soup ready?" The elderly voice sounded again. Ye Chen struggled to turn his head and saw a hunched figure heading for the door.
"It's ready, it's ready." The old man had only taken a few steps when another voice came from outside. Then a woman with an aged face and tattered clothes appeared in the doorway.
The old woman carried a steaming bowl. She slowly came to Ye Chen's side and sat down, then picked up the spoon and brought a small mouthful of soup to his lips.
"Have a sip, child." Her voice was kind and gentle.
Ye Chen was ravenous. It felt as if a fire were burning in his stomach, and the sensation was even harder to bear than the cold. He immediately parted his lips and let the old woman feed him the soup.
After swallowing the rather bland soup, warmth spread through Ye Chen's body. At last, the hot broth filled his organs with strength again.
A kind smile appeared on the old woman's face. She scooped up another small spoonful, blew on it, then fed it to Ye Chen.
The bowl was soon empty, but Ye