"Little brother, this is homemade liquor I made. Take a sip to warm yourself up before I take you back home for treatment."
The middle-aged man pulled a sheepskin liquor pouch from his belt, unplugged the stopper, and poured a large amount of liquor into the young man's mouth, which made the dark-clothed youth cough violently. The youth's bloodless face regained a bit of rosiness during this ordeal.
The middle-aged man then carried the youth on his back, clutching a child in his arms again, and quickly disappeared into the blizzard-filled streets against the cold wind and snow.
Creak.
The slightly worn-out door was pushed open, and the piercing cold wind rushed in. The middle-aged man, carrying the youth on his back, quickly entered the house, and hastily bolted the door, only then feeling a trace of warmth.
"Mother, we are back."