With the Commandery Princess in his heart, Chen Zhuo wrote as if inspired.
Cui Du focused intensely, painting one piece after another.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
It was the third hour!
Meng Sanbao habitually came over to help the little mute, and the moment his hand touched the back of the robe, Qin Hu coughed loudly. Meng Sanbao instantly became alert, changed the direction of his hand, and helped the little mute up: "Little Mu... Mr. Cui, it's time for bed."
Cui Du had drawn five drawings in a row; his right hand was somewhat sore and weak. Hearing the words, he put down the charcoal pencil and stood up.
Qin Hu immediately stepped forward and cautiously collected the five finished drawings.
Meng Sanbao held those two heavy boxes.
The eastern wing room had been tidied up, spotless, and at least three times larger than the small room he used to live in. On the spacious wooden bed was new bedding, and the sky-blue light gauze curtains looked very refreshing.
