01冬天降临荒原,皑皑白雪覆盖了崎岖不平的土路。一幢木屋矗立在土路的尽头,不声不响,背倚一座白色的小山丘,好像睡着了一样。傍晚,木屋醒了过来,屋顶上冒出袅袅的炊烟,把冰冷的天空都熏暖了。煮南瓜的香味浮荡在冰冷的空气里。天黑了很久,土路上走过一个人。他敲响木屋的门,门吱呀一声打开了。“您是?”开门的是一位系着厚厚的旧 01 winter desolate, snow covered the rugged dirt road. A wooden hut stands at the end of a dirt road, silent, and leans back against a white hill as if asleep. In the evening, when the log house awoke, the curl of smoke rose from the roof and the cold sky was warm. The smell of boiled pumpkin floating in the cold air. It was dark for a long time and passed a man on the dirt road. He knocked on the wooden door, the door squeaks open. “You are? ” Open the door is a Department of thick old