The room in our new home is much more spacious than the one back in the Meng family courtyard.
A green gauze lamp hung over the desk by the window, exuding rings of faint light, infusing the scent of the leaves with a hint of warmth.
Hua Xiaomai was suddenly deprived of the little walnut by Meng Yuhuai, her hand suddenly empty, first shocked, and then realizing what happened, she burst into laughter.
"What are you trying to do?" she asked, running a finger slowly over the brand-new quilt embroidered with hundreds of flowers, lowering her head with a smile curving on her lips and brows, "Why do I feel like you're up to no good?"
The twenty-nine-year-old young matron, having given birth to the little walnut, had gained an added touch of mature charm, her figure a bit plumper than before, as white and luscious as a juicy peach.
