The afternoon sun slanted through the large window in the wall by the kang bed, slowly blanketing the floor.
On the small table set up on the kang, light and shadow danced across the paper, steeping the lingering scent of ink in a slow, drawn-out rhythm.
It should have been a leisurely, peaceful moment, yet Ji Huan couldn't calm her mind no matter what. She had been copying text for the better part of the day, completely oblivious to what she was even writing.
Dabao obediently remained lying flat on his back, turning his head to glance at her from time to time.
Because of his foot injury, Ji Huan had given him the afternoon off. He didn't have to practice his calligraphy today; he just had to lie down.
But lying down didn't mean he couldn't listen to a story...
With Dabao sneaking glance after glance, it was impossible for Ji Huan not to notice. She finally put down her brush and told him the story of Nezha's battle with the sea.
