Her sky, darkened.
The shadows of residence, sisterly discussions, humble origins, all sorts of pressures, all returned.
Shen Qing'e squeezed out a smile uglier than crying: "This time you're not saying what I want to hear."
Jiang Ning: "Impressive."
...
Two o'clock in the afternoon.
Although Jiang Ning went to a relative's house, he arranged a small warming array in front of the River Dam Bungalow before leaving.
Xue Yuantong fumbled around, found the position of the array, and nestled into the recliner to bask in the sun, so comfortable.
Then, some noise came from the west side of the bungalow, Xue Yuantong moved her little ears; it was not Jiang Ning's electric bike.
A delightful aroma wafted in from the west, Xue Yuantong opened her eyes, Mr. Qian drove past in a three-wheel vehicle, the aroma coming along grandly.
The neighboring Butcher Zhang greeted: "Old Qian, what's so fragrant?"
