amaotonovel 003 The sky softened, breaking the wispy clouds into feathers, which drifted and fluttered, coming
003 The sky softened, breaking the wispy clouds into feathers, which drifted and fluttered, coming
The first snow is like the first blank letter sent by the sky, its contents empty, yet it fills the hearts of all who look up at it with stories.
Zhen Xiaosi pushed open the window lattice—
Xue had already taken her seat before her. The roof tiles were smoothed into rows of cold, silvery piano keys, which produced a faint "tinkling" sound when pressed by the wind;
The branches of the old locust tree were re-outlined by the snow line, like the last stroke of a craftsman's line drawing, so fine that it was almost broken, yet it could withstand the frost of an entire winter.
The moment she exhaled, the mist was cut in two by the snow; one half rose up and became an invisible, cold star, while the other half sank down and clung to her cheek, like a piece of icy rouge, red with cold.
The snow in Chang'an doesn't fall, it's embedded.
Pine needles, studded with snowflakes, resemble crystal panpipes; a touch produces a delicate, silvery sound.
The bamboo sections were filled with snow, turning them into segments of white jade. When the wind blew, they made a crisp "ding" sound, like someone had hidden a piece of tribute porcelain in the forest.
The withered lotus leaves in the imperial moat are covered with snow helmets, their veins frozen into transparent maps, and what flows in the veins is no longer water, but the solidified sound of bells.
She reached out to pick a snowflake, but it crumbled on its own, falling softly into her sleeve and sliding down her arm like a fleeing ice snake, making her shiver with cold.
Looking again, the snow has transformed the city into "White Capital".
Zhuque Avenue became an unfurled strip of Xuan paper, with footprints as ink and tire tracks as brushes, each line inscribed with "Pedestrians, please take a break."
The snow-covered eaves of the city wall were shaved thin by the wind, reflecting the sunlight and shining brightly, as if the city wall had been plated with a layer of silver and gold.
Zhen Xiaosi recited the line "Suddenly, like a spring breeze overnight," and only now does she understand: pear blossoms are not so cold and beautiful; they bloom on the branches, yet carry the chill of a knife's edge.
She stepped into the snow with a soft "crunch," like stepping on a cracked jade clasp. The snow was ankle-deep, each step creating a small wave of silver, with tiny ice crystals floating on the crests, scattering handfuls of broken glass—who had crushed the Milky Way into dust?
Her fingers brushed against an old plum tree, and the snow on the branches fell in a flurry, hitting her cuffs and turning into a few round beads that rolled into her palm along the gold-embroidered pattern, making her curl up in coldness—this snow, even its temperature was Tang Dynasty standard, minus three degrees, just enough to freeze memories into amber.
Further on, the snow brought the market into the porcelain kiln as well.
The white steam rising from the steamer was cut off by the snow, as if someone had cut it with a knife.
The camel bells of the foreign merchants, filled with snowflakes, made a dull, deep sound, as if coming from the bottom of a well.
The tavern banners were bent into bows by the weight of the snow, with icicles hanging from the corners. When the wind blew, they collided with each other, clanging and jingling like the drums of a snowy day.
She suddenly felt hungry; her stomach was as empty as a bronze mirror polished by snow, reflecting her own quiet joy.
Zhen Xiaosi thought she had turned into a familiar alley in Chang'an, until her nostrils were filled with a rich yet unfamiliar warm fragrance—a golden slit split open by melting cheese and caramelized onions in the cold air.
She looked up to see the iron pot on the wooden stall bubbling away, Kösespötzle (cheese dumplings) bobbing in the water. The stall owner, a beautiful blonde with blue eyes, scooped up a lump with a wooden spoon; the dough stretched into strands like icicles on a snowy roof, then was instantly coated in hot cheese, turning into translucent amber. Crispy onion slices were sprinkled on top, like a campfire bursting in the snow.
She took the paper plate, her fingertips burning red from the heat.
The first bite was an explosion of cheese stretching down to her chin; she expertly rolled it into her mouth with her tongue, savoring the sweetness of milk and the breeze of Alpine pastures. The second bite was a crunchy onion crunching between her teeth like snowflakes, its salty aroma like the evening drum of a bell tower striking her taste buds. The third bite was a soft dough, like a blanket covered in fresh snow, yet wrapped with the chewy texture of eggs. She suddenly recalled her past life's memory of "Bo Tuo" (a type of steamed bun), the snow of Bavaria, burning hot on her tongue.
The snow was still falling, landing on the edge of the paper plate and melting into a ring of tiny water droplets, like a layer of shattered diamonds coating the warmth of this foreign land.
That was just an ordinary stall at Munich's Christmas market. Every year from late November to Christmas Eve, this ancient city transforms into a winter wonderland. In 2025, this tradition continues—despite rumors circulating online, fact-checking confirms that Munich's Christmas market will proceed as scheduled, although additional security checks may be implemented at the entrance to ensure a safer and more welcoming atmosphere for everyone.
Zhen Xiaosi licked the cheese off her lips, the warmth in her stomach pushing the snow back beyond her eyelashes. She decided to venture deeper into this labyrinth of light.
Her first stop was the city's ancient heart—the main Christmas market on Marienplatz. The Gothic facade of the New Town Hall served as the grandest backdrop, the air thick with the sweet aroma of roasted almonds and the smoky scent of grilled sausages. Here, classic flavors converge: Bratwurst sizzles on the griddle, sandwiched in bread and sprinkled with mustard—simple yet hearty; for a taste of Bavarian heart, Schweinshaxe (roasted pork knuckle) is a must, its golden-brown crispy skin concealing tender, juicy meat, often paired with a local beer.
If you find the main square too noisy, a short walk north will take you to the Royal Palace Christmas Village. The inner courtyard of the palace encloses a refined space, with elegant wooden houses selling exquisite Christmas decorations and handicrafts. The chocolate house, in particular, displays incredibly realistic chocolate ironware, creating a tranquil and noble atmosphere.
Her first encounter with cheese dumplings took her to another world—a medieval Christmas market. Located in Wittelsbacherplatz, vendors dressed in period costumes prepared traditional Knødel dumplings using ancient methods, or sold skewers of wild roasted suckling pig. The rich aroma of mead filled the air, instantly transporting one from the modern world to a winter celebration from hundreds of years ago.
Zhen Xiaosi followed the flow of people, letting her taste buds continue their journey. The universe of savory food is vast: flambéed salmon curls up on the grill, releasing its oily aroma; potato pancakes dipped in cranberry sauce offer simple satisfaction; and leberköse (a type of baked meatloaf) sandwiched in bread provides hearty comfort.
Sweetness is another soul of the Christmas market. Freshly baked lebkuchen (gingerbread) exudes the warm aroma of cinnamon and cloves, its heart-shaped decorations making it a carrier of love and blessings. Sugar-roasted almonds have a translucent, crisp shell, while hot chestnuts warm your hands in a paper bag. As for waffles with chocolate-covered fruit or drizzled with sauce, they are the most direct tribute to sweet-toothed lovers.
The perfect accompaniment to all of this is a glass of mulled Gluhwein or hot Gluhbeer, its aroma infused with the fragrance of spices. Holding it in your gloved palm, sipping it slowly, the warmth of the alcohol travels from your throat to your core, dispelling any chill. For those who can't hold their liquor or for families, there's a non-alcoholic option: Kinderpunsch, equally sweet and comforting.
As night deepened, the Christmas tree lights in Marienplatz lit up, their glow filtering through the snowflakes, creating a hazy, rosy effect. Zhen Xiaosi held an empty mulled wine cup (shaped like an ancient pottery vessel), the warmth still lingering in her throat. Indeed, there were two kinds of white in the snow: one from Chang'an, cold and porcelain-like, the underlying tone of her memories; the other from Bavaria, warm and soft, melting into the foreign night.
She walked back through the snow, the hustle and bustle of the market behind her gradually fading into a warm background sound. Her footprints sank slightly into the snow, like postcards that never needed to be sent, bearing the words: Where the heart finds peace, there is warmth.