"Brother, I've still got some saved up. Let's go out and sell more tomorrow."
Qin Xiangnuan was quite satisfied with the amount of money they had made. For the sake of the money, for the sake of saving up, she had pushed herself hard. She rubbed her pitiful, chubby hands—yes, they were frozen. The temperature inside the system space was just right, about twenty-five or twenty-six degrees. She wondered if staying there longer might help alleviate her frostbitten hands.
From time to time, she rubbed her hands on her clothes because they were very itchy, but she didn't dare to scratch everywhere.
Only after the itch subsided did she stretch out one hand to set up the red paper and start writing again.
Within this space provided by the system, she never stopped working. When tired, she'd rest her head on the table for a bit, then upon waking, she'd continue writing. If she got bored, she would leave the system to add some wood to the stove and cook something to eat.
