冷雨夹着雪花，噼里啪啦地砸在破旧的茅草屋顶上，发出细微又刺耳的声响。茅草都被雨水泡得软化塌陷，露出里面黑黢黢的泥土地。屋内，少年李浩蜷缩在冰冷硬板床上，怀里裹着一条破棉被，却依然止不住地打哆嗦。

"操他妈的。" 李浩从牙缝里挤出一句骂人话， Louder in his mind was a more colorful stream of curses aimed at the sky, the gods, his rotten luck, and even the bastard who lent his family the money they couldn't afford. The ceiling was leaking, water dripping onto his face like tiny curses. His stomach growled for food, but there wasn't any. His father had been sick for months, and the medicine money had long been exhausted. The debt collector came again this morning, beat his mother, and now threats hung over their already shattered lives.

Liangshan's wind and rain were not his to endure today.

His eyes, usually dull with exhaustion, suddenly flared. A strange warmth spread from his dantian, the spot between his navel and chest, a feeling he'd only vaguely felt before. It was like a tiny sun blooming inside him, radiating light and heat to dispel the cold.