Beyond the city gates, a leisurely stroll of two miles led Danwu to a pine forest adjacent to the official road. Within this serene woodland stood a cluster of thatched cottages.
These humble abodes, though exceedingly simple, gained an ethereal quality amidst the backdrop of evergreen pines and the pristine blanket of snow. The modest dwellings, enveloped by the fragrance of the towering pines and the drifting snow, exuded an otherworldly sense of detachment. The wisps of blue smoke that danced with the wind above the rooftops added a touch of warmth to the otherwise austere setting.
Before entering one of the cottages, an elderly figure—Old Niutou—casually brushed off the snow from his attire, stomped his feet to shake off the clinging chill, and then gently pushed open the creaking door.
Inside, the accommodations were exceedingly simple, with the centerpiece being a hearth made of weathered blue stones. A flame roared within, casting a warm, golden glow that contrasted with the snowy world outside.
Suspended above the flames, a black iron pot emitted tendrils of steam, carrying an inviting aroma. Old Niutou, now comfortably settled, surveyed the rustic setting and savored the familiarity of his humble abode.
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