It took a full day to weave five or six fishing nets.
At midnight, new snow fell like goose feathers, burying the entire village under a soft, silver blanket. By four in the morning, before the production team’s copper bell had even rung, kerosene lamps began to flicker on, one after another. Inside the dim houses, families held coarse porcelain bowls, gnawing on corn cakes while dipping them in pickled radishes, the steam from their breath swirling into fog.
"Eat more!" Auntie Zhang said, tucking a piece of pickled meat into her son’s bowl. "Chipping ice is hard, energy-draining work."
Chapter 94