In the afternoon, after eating her meal, Mrs. Song was organizing the dead twigs in the courtyard without a second thought. She snapped each twig and laid them in the corner of the courtyard where there was a rain shelter. The firewood, kept there, was not likely to become damp, and even if it rained, it wouldn't get wet.
"Mom! Busy with something?" Wang Qinghua entered the Song family's home, holding her little daughter, and called out to Mrs. Song, who was sorting the dead twigs in the courtyard. In the past half a year, it was rare for her to initiate a greeting to her mother-in-law, especially with a smile on her face.
