At the age of sixty, Fang Xuanling, wearing his official robes, stood in the courtyard with his hands behind his back. He looked up at the snow-covered roof and wore a face full of worry.,A scantily clad young boy sat on the roof, holding a flask of liquor in his hand and taking sips from time to time, sighing heavily.,As soon as these words were spoken, the entire courtyard fell silent.。