The walls of the earthen house looked somewhat rough, with traces of straw occasionally peeking through the mud. The doors and windows were made of wood, their minimalist style reflecting a purely utilitarian purpose. The window panes were covered with old newspapers or oiled paper, which made the light filtering into the room appear exceptionally dim. As one slowly stepped inside, a heavy, musty odor greeted them. The floor was made of earth that had been tamped down repeatedly; though uneven in places, it offered a distinct sense of solid grounding. The interior space was not spacious, furnished only with the bare essentials: a plain wooden table, some slightly weathered wooden stools, and a kang that occupied a large portion of the room. Every winter, the family would gather on the kang, relying on the warmth of the heated surface to successfully withstand the bone-chilling cold of the Northeast.
In that unique era, the earthen house was like a warm harbor that sheltered Northeast families from the wind and rain. It had witnessed the joys and sorrows of countless households and held their earnest hopes for life. Every trace of mud and every exposed stalk of straw seemed to be telling stories of the past.
Wang Jianguo stood silently in the room, looking up at the ceiling. He noticed faint, tiny beams of light piercing through gaps in the roof. He couldn't help but think that this house would surely leak when it rained. Wang Jianguo had never been one to settle; he could n…
Chapter 255