Winter evening.
The tall trees in front of the bungalow are like the head of English teacher Chen Haiyang, bald.
But the wheat seedlings in the field are like Shen Xu's hat, lush green.
The old snow has not yet melted completely, and new snow adds to it, drifting down from the dim sky. The entire village and fields are shrouded in the hazy white snow.
The lights at the entrance of the bungalow are turned on, each lamp illuminating the darkness.
Zhang Ruyun stands at the doorway, unafraid of the snowy weather, which instead brings vitality. Looking east, he can occasionally see guests coming from the city to eat at the farm restaurant.
Dongdong is pulling at a rope, diligently dragging a tire, with a five or six-year-old girl sitting on it, laughing very happily. Her father is beside them, preventing any accidents.
It's truly a wonder to Zhang Ruyun; his impression of Dongdong was that of a rebellious wild child, yet he has become so sensible?
