Chapter 730

The sound of the bicycle chain, mingled with the approaching beat of horse hooves, wove into a tense rhythm in his ears. The cold wind stung his eyes, yet he kept his gaze locked on the moving shadow ahead. Faint tufts of cotton batting peeked through the gaps in the carriage cover, as if someone had piled thick quilts inside—who were these people? What were they bringing into the village? Full of questions, he pedaled harder. The bicycle bell rang incessantly in the wind, startling a hare in the roadside brush, which scrambled into the mist. The bicycle's metal rims crunched against the frozen ruts with a crisp, brittle sound. White frost clung to Zhao Shuzhuo’s eyelashes, and the steam from his breath formed ice crystals on his scarf.