The High-Speed Rail to Spring Starts Up Again

Ding Lizhong stepped right into the mother and daughter's conversation. Hearing what they were saying, he froze with one foot raised for a long moment. Then he slapped himself on the forehead and turned back into his study...

There's no saving these two.

One actually dares to suggest it, and the other actually dares to agree.

Where... where does that leave propriety?

Daughter, you aren't even married yet...

Four or five days after the heavy snowfall on Little New Year, patches of snow still lingered on Old Pagoda Mountain.

Lin Xiaosu stood on the second-floor rooftop, looking at the distant vegetable gardens and the firecracker scraps scattered across the snow outside each household. He breathed in the scent of gunpowder and savored that special atmosphere belonging to a rural New Year.

Every New Year was a marker.

Perhaps life was simply a string of such markers, linked one after another.

Amid firecracker bursts, another year departed; spring breezes brought warmth to the festive wine. Beneath the bright rising sun over countless homes, new peachwood charms always replaced the old.

The new peachwood charms had replaced the old. What would next New Year's Eve look like?

Within what kind of order would this mortal peace and harmony, this happiness and hope of ordinary people, find a lasting home?

Xiaoye came upstairs with a coat in her hands and gently draped it over his shoulders from behind.

Lin Xiaosu turned slightly and smiled at her. "Mom and Dad are staying up to see the New Year in, right?"

"Mm. The fire's blazing. They asked whether you wanted a late-night snack."

"What about you? Want something?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Who gets hungry over the Spring Festival? It's the thought that counts. Come on, let's ask my mom to cook us some noodles..."

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