The northern landscape, a thousand miles sealed in ice, ten thousand miles of drifting snow...

Heavy snow was falling in the north. As the cold front moved south, temperatures in the south also plummeted, bringing a true taste of winter. In many places, people were digging out sweaters they hadn’t worn in ages.

The weather forecast mentioned light snow for the next few days, with a small chance of heavy snow to blizzards in isolated areas. However, weather experts explained that it would likely be brief and its coverage would not be extensive.

When Li Xiang ran into people in the village, he would occasionally mention it, but sadly, no one believed him. So he stopped bringing it up.

It’s not that weather forecasts are inaccurate; they’re just time-sensitive. Modern forecasts are essentially updated in real-time. To be precise, they’re updated three times a day: at 6:00 AM, 11:00 AM, and 4:00 PM. Often, the forecast can change within a single day.

For example, the forecast might predict heavy rain in the morning, only to change to overcast by noon. Sometimes it warns of a typhoon that suddenly changes course and never arrives. This is all perfectly normal. After all, the weather is unpredictable.

In Yunnan Province, at a coffee resort, He Zhixiang had put on an extra layer of clothing. He was getting older, after all, and couldn’t handle the cold like he used to. As he sat on the balcony of the resort’s most luxurious suite, feeling the biting wind and gazing at the distant mountain view, a bad feeling suddenly washed over him.

’Could what Li Xiang said actually be true?’

’Whatever. Better safe than sorry. Li Xiang seems like a reliable guy.’

After a moment of contemplation, he decisively picked up his phone and called his assistant. "Tell all supervisors and managers to get to Conference Room 1 immediately for a meeting. We’re discussing measures to protect the coffee trees from the cold this winter."

His subordinates exchanged confused glances when they received the notification, wondering what on earth their boss was up to. Yunnan Province was like spring year-round; what cold were they supposed to be defending against? Did he want them to put clothes on the coffee trees?

The workload would be immense. Still, since the boss had called, they had no choice but to scurry over. Even though they didn’t agree with the premise, they still put their heads together and proposed numerous practical and effective solutions.

These included covering the ground with plant ash and plastic sheeting, applying fertilizer to boost the trees’ cold resistance, wrapping the trunks in plastic film and straw ropes, and building sturdy shelters for the younger saplings.

They also suggested evenly distributing three to five smudge pots per mu, packing them tightly, ready to be lit when needed to raise the ground-level and ambient temperatures with smoke.

And so on.

He Zhixiang was a man of decisive action. He immediately assigned the tasks right then and there—"You do this, you do that"—and everyone sprang into action.

「Three days later.」

The weather forecast issued a new warning: the cold front was far stronger than anticipated. The southern regions could expect widespread heavy snow, even blizzards. Weather experts analyzed that it was very likely a once-in-a-decade-level event.

When the news broke, people weren’t scared at all; on the contrary, they grew even more excited.

Whoa, a blizzard! A once-in-a-decade storm!

"Haha, I can finally wear my down jacket!"

"I can’t wait."

"Snowball fights and snowmen, here I come!"

"A once-in-a-decade storm is so rare. There might be some minor problems, and our daily lives might be disrupted, but it’ll only be for two or three days. It’s totally worth it to see such a rare snowscape!"

When reporters interviewed the weather experts, they also reassured the public not to be overly concerned.

Li Xiang was in his backyard making charcoal. It was a necessity for brewing tea by the stove or for the small, red-clay tabletop stove he used for mini hot pots. Using firewood directly would create too much smoke and ash.

He was making both bamboo and fir charcoal. The fir charcoal was especially good; it was long-lasting and produced very little ash.

Making charcoal was actually quite simple; it didn’t require much technical skill. Li Xiang was well-versed in the process. He chose a flat, open area in the backyard, far from the house, and cleared away the surrounding weeds and dry leaves. Then, with a shovel, he dug a large, round pit about a meter deep. He used the excavated dirt to build a retaining wall on the windward side to act as a windbreak.

He lit a small pile of dry kindling at the bottom of the pit to get a fire going, then tossed in the pre-cut bamboo and fir logs. Once the wood and bamboo were almost completely carbonized, he simply doused the pit with water to extinguish the fire. It was a simple, crude method.

But it was indeed the most economical method. As a child, Li Xiang had often seen his grandmother make charcoal the exact same way.

Back then, his grandmother only made small amounts, so she wouldn’t even dig a pit. She would simply pull the partially burned wood from the stove’s firebox with tongs, toss it into a decrepit old water bucket to quench it, and then take it out to dry.

Of course, there were many other ways to make charcoal, like using a carbonization furnace, an earthen kiln, or an iron canister, but they were all a bit more complicated.

Although Li Xiang’s method resulted in some waste—with certain parts not fully carbonized and needing to be chopped off—he had prepared plenty of raw materials. After several hours of work and carefully sorting through the results, he had harvested over two hundred pounds of charcoal.

He would wash the finished bamboo and wood charcoal with water to rinse off any excess dust and impurities, then let it dry before storing it in the woodshed.

With the blizzard drawing near, Li Xiang went into the county seat for one last supply run. Since the weather had turned cold, he didn’t have to worry about most vegetables spoiling, even if left outside, so he bought a large quantity. This time, he even bought fish, which he hadn’t before.

The cats at home couldn’t do without it. Besides, he also planned on making fish balls.

Compared to meatballs, fish balls were lighter and had a more delicate texture.

Sichuan cuisine is known for its "hundred flavors," and it’s not all about heat. There’s also sourness, numbness, and more. When combined, these tastes give rise to a myriad of wonderful flavors. Just combining chili peppers and Sichuan peppercorns can produce over a dozen complex types of spiciness: scorched-chili spice, flash-fried chili spice, fragrant-spice, hot and sour, sweet and spicy, numbing-spice...

As the saying goes: "Sweet, salty, sour, soft, crisp, numbing, spicy, bitter, fresh, and fragrant—with all ten tastes complete, that is the soul of authentic Sichuan cuisine."

The reason Sichuan cuisine can achieve such a diversity of flavors is that white sugar plays a crucial role.

That’s right. Sugar is used in almost every Sichuan dish, just not as liberally as in the cuisine of the Jiangsu and Zhejiang Region.

Therefore, the daily consumption of rock sugar and white granulated sugar in Li Xiang’s household was rather high. On this trip, he purchased another twenty-two pounds of rock sugar and thirty-three pounds of white sugar.

For certain dishes, like braised pork belly, caramelizing rock sugar creates a better color and texture than using granulated sugar.

...

"COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO~"

The big rooster with its red comb and colorful plumage crowed punctually every day, never once slacking off. Li Xiang was woken by the damned bird and got up to open the door.

The moment he opened the door—holy crap!—piles of brilliant white snow tumbled inside.

A door-blocking drift.

It had all fallen in a single night.

Even though Li Xiang had already "known" this would happen, he couldn’t help but be stunned by the sight.

In his past life, he had been living in a major city at this time. With all the car exhaust and ambient heat radiation, temperatures in the city were actually higher than in the countryside, and the snow had never been this heavy.

’The super blizzard is really here, right on schedule. That means the Apocalypse is inevitable.’ Li Xiang reflected with a sigh. He activated his Breathing Technique and started clearing the snow from the doorway.

This just goes to show, there’s a good reason doors open inward.

If it opened outward, he probably wouldn’t have been able to get it open at all today and would’ve had to climb out a window.

The sound of Dahuang and Er Huang barking—WOOF! WOOF!—came from the backyard. They sounded urgent, and their barks were strangely muffled. Li Xiang headed for the back door.

He opened the back door. Thankfully, the covered walkway had prevented all but a small amount of snow from drifting in. But a short distance away, out in the yard... the doghouse was completely gone.