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Meanwhile, inside the small house, the air hung heavy with the faint scent of reed mats and aged wood. Lin Xin squeezed out a damp cloth, his slender fingers moving with care as he wiped the low table. The summer heat clung to his skin, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, yet each motion was slow and careful as he cleaned.
At his side, Dong Hai wrestled with a small broom, nearly taller than himself. He gripped it with both hands, sweeping with solemn determination. Dust rose in little clouds, swirling in the golden shafts of sunlight streaming through the paper window. Though the bristles scattered more dust than they caught, the boy's small eyes shone with purpose.
Lin Xin glanced at him, a faint smile tugging at his lips as the boy nearly knocked over a stool. His voice was soft, like a breeze through the trees.
"Careful, Dong Hai. Don't rush."
"I know," Dong Hai said quickly, puffing his cheeks in protest. He straightened his back, sweeping with even more fervor, trying to show that he could handle the work.
Lin Xin moved on to the shelves, dusting each one with gentle care. He lifted small bamboo cups and wooden plates, setting them aside before wiping the surfaces beneath. Meanwhile, Dong Hai crouched down to sweep under the low table, his small hands gripping the broom as he reached into corners he could barely see. A loose floorboard shifted under his weight, and he froze for a moment, then laughed softly at himself.
"Be careful," Lin Xin reminded him again as he watched the boy's earnest expression. "Don't strain yourself, okay."
Dong Hai shook his head, returning to the corner with renewed determination. "I can manage. I want to help."
As they worked, Lin Xin gathered the reed mats, shaking them out and stacking them neatly against the wall. Dong Hai spotted a stubborn cobweb in the far corner and darted forward, leaping on his toes to reach it. He tugged at it, and it flitted away, only for him to chase it again, giggling softly. Lin Xin chuckled, wiping his hands on his robe before picking up a small bamboo tray to sweep up the loose dirt Dong Hai had stirred.
Their movements fell into a quiet rhythm, each working together, wordless yet connected. By the time they finished, the little house seemed to breathe easier, brighter somehow. Dust clung to Dong Hai's nose and tousled hair, but his chest puffed out with pride. Lin Xin set the damp cloth aside and for a moment, the silence between them was warm with the comfort of their shared effort.
"Dong Hai, do you have any bamboo basket we could use when we go out later?" Lin Xin asked softly. After washing his hands, he reached over to help the little boy wash his own hands before lending a hand with the tidying.
The little boy nodded quickly. "I do!" he whispered, a small note of gratitude in his voice, before darting into the inner room. Soon, he returned, carrying two bamboo baskets, their edges worn smooth with age. Holding them out carefully, he lowered his head, cheeks tinged with a faint flush. "I only have these at home," he murmured, a touch of shyness in his tone.
Lin Xin accepted one with gentle care, his hand reaching up to ruffle the boy's dark hair with a soft, playful gesture. "These will do nicely," he said with a warm smile. "Come, let us go before Han Yan returns. We shall surprise him with plenty of wild vegetables… and perhaps even some fresh seafood."
At the words, Dong Hai's eyes sparkled, as if you could see stars. He hugged the bamboo basket to his chest with small, determined movements. He nodded vigorously, excitement barely contained. Together, they stepped out of the old courtyard, the wooden gate creaking softly as they closed it behind them. The narrow path before them wound between tall grasses and scattered stones, golden sunlight casting long, shifting shadows as they walked side by side.
Dong Hai's small footsteps echoed lightly on the earth, Lin Xin matching his pace, the gentle rhythm of their movement blending with the rustle of the wind through the reeds. In the quiet of the late afternoon, their bond unspoken yet quietly strong.
Before long, the two arrived at Willow Breeze Lake, the sole source of water for Hangul Village.
The lake was modest in size, yet its surface rippled with a soft, endless rhythm beneath the blazing sun, gleaming like polished jade. Along the banks, the water was so clear that tiny fish darted nimbly between smooth stones, their silver scales flashing beneath the green-blue depths. From its far end, a narrow stream trickled lazily, winding past gnarled willow roots before vanishing into the distant fields. Water birds rested in the shallows, preening and flicking their wings at occasional ripples, while dragonflies skimmed across the mirrored surface, their delicate shadows dancing upon the water.
Along the edges, slender reeds swayed gently in the breeze, their long green leaves whispering softly as they bent and straightened. Some of the taller stalks bore feathery tufts that floated above the water like pale plumes, catching the sunlight and reflecting in the lake's mirrored surface. The wind passed through them with a low, rustling murmur, as if the reeds themselves were breathing with the lake, adding a quiet music to the stillness of midday. Wild water chestnuts pushed green shoots through the shallows, and tall cattails swayed lazily beside them.
Occasionally, a larger fish arched from the water, sending glittering ripples across the surface, while tiny fish flickered beneath, silver flashes catching the sunlight. Dragonflies hovered and skimmed above the lake, wings glinting like spun glass, and a lone water bird stirred in the shallows, shaking its feathers before taking off with a soft splash.
Above, the summer sky stretched vast and high, blue as washed silk, with clouds drifting like strokes of ink across a scroll painting. The noonday sun poured down its fierce light, and where it struck the water, ripples sparkled like scattered jade shards. Heat shimmered faintly at the horizon, softening the distant outline of Hangul Village until it seemed like a mirage, hovering between earth and sky.
The air was thick with summer's warmth, carrying the faint sweetness of wild grass and the damp freshness of the lake. From the reeds, a cool breath of wind rose, brushing their faces and bringing the earthy scent of wet soil. The sharp contrast between the heavy sun above and the gentle chill near the water made the lakeside feel alive with movement and life stifling and refreshing all at once.
By this hour, the sun hung high, pressing its weight upon the land. Most villagers had already retreated indoors, leaving the lakeshore quiet and still. Only the ceaseless cry of cicadas and the gentle rustle of willow leaves stirred the heavy midday air.
Lin Xin let out a quiet breath of relief as he glanced around. The lakeshore was nearly empty, with no villagers in sight only the endless hum of cicadas and the soft murmur of wind through the reeds. His gaze fell on Dong Hai, already fidgeting, ready to dash about with barely contained excitement.
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