My brother entrusted his child to me, and I livestreamed raising the baby, making the Empress cry wi

The scene was especially heartwarming in the quiet of the overcast day. The snowmen and animals stood there quietly, silent yet seemingly speaking a thousand words.

Watching this scene, Xiao Douzi felt a warmth spread through her heart, starting from her chest and flowing through her veins to her limbs and bones, making her feel warm all over.

The cold air was still surrounding her, her breath was still puffs of white, and the tips of her ears were still icy cold, but it felt like a small furnace was burning inside her body.

Happiness was like an invisible cotton-padded jacket, wrapping her up from head to toe, so she didn't feel cold at all.

The snow started falling again, with scattered snowflakes drifting slowly down from the gray-white sky.

Unlike last night when they were swept down at an angle by the wind, they fell very gently and slowly, almost vertically, each snowflake drifting gracefully and elegantly.

It landed on the two people's heads, and also covered the snowmen with a thin layer of white veil.

New snow falls on old snow, indistinguishable from each other, only making the outlines of everything softer.

The air was filled with the clean and crisp scent unique to snow, and every breath felt like a cleansing from the inside out.

The scent contained the cool fragrance of winter plum blossoms, the bittersweet aroma of holly, the faint milky scent of Xiao Douzi, and the subtle woody fragrance on Lin Ye's sleeves.

All the flavors were gathered together by the cold air, blending into a unique memory belonging to this gloomy, snowy day.

As snow fell again in modern times, the situation for Da Yan began to look increasingly dire.

It has been raining heavily for four or five days now. Ever since that time at the amusement park, the rain has never stopped.

From morning till night, from sunset to sunrise, it pours down relentlessly, as if someone had punched a huge hole in the sky and all the water is pouring out of that hole.

And beneath that hole lay the entire raging flame.

The sky was always leaden gray, and the clouds were so thick that it looked like an endless iron plate covered the sky, without the slightest crack.

During the day, the clouds still reveal a pale gray-white hue, but at night they turn completely black and chaotic, swallowing up even the moon and stars, as if only rain remains in the world.

The air became sticky and heavy, and breathing it into my lungs carried a cold, fishy smell.

The raindrops poured down, no longer just drop by drop, but in large swaths.

The rain curtain stretched out like thousands of thick whips, crackling and popping as it hit the roof tiles, and creating countless tiny craters on the muddy ground.

As time passed, a damp, musty smell gradually filled the air, mixed with the fishy odor of soil soaked in water, and the stench of rotting grass roots that seemed to have drifted in from somewhere.

The people were no longer as relaxed as they had been when the rain first started.

When it first started raining, the rain wasn't actually that heavy, and some people even said it was good rain.

The neighbors stood under the eaves, looking at the sky and reaching out to catch the rain, their faces smiling and their mouths murmuring.

Wang the blacksmith, who lived at the alley entrance, scooped up a handful of water with his large, old, scarred hands. The water dripped through his fingers, and he grinned as he called out to Aunt He across the street, "Aunt He! Look at this rain, so clear and bright!"

Aunt He leaned against the doorframe, wiping her hands with her apron, her crow's feet crinkling into a smile, and repeatedly replied, "That's right! Spring rain is as precious as oil!"

"The seeds for spring planting have just been sown; this is truly a timely rain!"

Old Sun from the end of the alley poked half his body out of his house, tilting his head back. Fine raindrops pattered on his gray eyebrows, but he didn't flinch, just kept chuckling.

The voices were cheerful, filled with relief and joy, and the whole alley came alive when spring plowing was mentioned.

"With Lord Lin's divine intervention this year, the harvest is sure to be excellent! Plus, General Wang has ordered a tax reduction, so we're guaranteed a good New Year!"

"Yes, yes! But then we can have a good New Year!"

……

However, when the sky cleared up the next day and the clouds became clear, some of the old farmers frowned.

Old Zhao, who was in the shed on the edge of the field, took the tobacco pipe out of his mouth, tapped it on the sole of his shoe, squinted, and craned his neck to look up at the sky.

He came to the fields early this morning to check the situation. It had rained all night, and the fields were doing alright for now, but if the rain continued... well, who knows...

He looked at the endless rain and the gray-black sky outside the shed, his Adam's apple bobbed, and he murmured in a hoarse voice, "This rain...something's wrong! It's too sudden, too heavy. What kind of spring rain falls like this?"

By the fourth day, almost no one went out anymore.

Every household had its doors tightly shut and windows closed, but moisture still seeped in through the cracks, soaking the furniture and bedding inside.

They hid in their homes, sitting blankly on the kang (a heated brick bed) or chairs, their eyes staring blankly at a certain spot, their ears filled with the seemingly endless sound of rain from the roof.

The sound of rain resounded day and night, making one's head throb, temples throb, heart race, and one lose the will to speak.

Silence and the sound of rain filled the room. The adults stopped talking, the children dared not make a fuss, and even the dog lay in the corner with its head buried in its front paws, its ears drooping, occasionally letting out a low whimper.

The entire blazing fire fell almost completely still. And in this silence, unease began to quietly creep in.

In the farm fields, farmers braved the heavy rain to drain as much water as possible from the fields.

Wearing straw raincoats and bamboo hats, they waded barefoot in the ankle-deep mud and water, digging out the clogged drainage ditches one shovelful at a time.

But the rain came down too fast, and the drainage ditch couldn't keep up. As soon as a hole was dug, it was filled back in half by the mud and sand that was washed down.

The land could no longer absorb the water; stepping on it felt like stepping into a swamp, and it took a lot of effort to pull your feet out. The water level continued to rise higher and higher.

An old farmer stood on the edge of the field, holding a shovel. Rainwater dripped down his straw raincoat, and the wrinkles on his face were filled with rain, like ravines eroded by water.

Looking at the vast wheat fields before him that had been flooded, he felt as if his chest had been gripped and twisted, his heart aching with pain.

The wheat seedlings had only just sprouted, and the tender green tips were battered by the raindrops, leaning precariously and barely alive.

But what's even more terrifying is that prolonged waterlogging can cause the wheat seedlings to rot completely at the roots!

When that time comes, it will truly be too late to turn things around... This thought brought tears to his eyes.

His knuckles were gripping the shovel handle, his fingernails were filled with black mud, and both his hands were trembling.

His lips were trembling, but the old man said nothing. He just wiped his face haphazardly with his sleeve, whether it was rainwater or something else, and then bent down to continue digging the drainage ditch.