“It’s snowing.” Ji Xia stood on top of the palace tower with his hands behind his back, gazing into the distance. Behind him stood more than a dozen high-ranking officials from the Taicang Empire, all with their heads bowed in reverence. The heavy snowfall of the night had blanketed the entire Taicang City in silver, covering the dilapidated alleys and houses with a beautiful layer of frost. However, no one in the Taicang Empire felt joy at the sight of snow. Snow meant the arrival of the "Silent Day," a time when darkness and death would cast their shadow over everything. In years when harvests were poor and firewood scarce, many would die. It had always been this way—without exception. “Has the new grain distribution decree been issued to Taicheng Prefecture and Cangcheng Prefecture?

