A few days later, Chen De'an, Chen Wanqing, and Zhao Jing made their way to the county town together.
It was already November, and the air was so cold that every breath they exhaled looked like a puff of smoke.
Chen De'an's steps grew heavier and heavier as he walked.
He was returning to his private school today. After nearly half a month of rest at home, setting out on the return journey filled him with a certain apprehension.
Another reason was the load he was carrying. He was bringing back some books, some cotton-padded clothes, and the food his family had prepared for Shou'an. It all filled a large basket to the brim, enough to make his back ache.
He wanted to ask Zhao Jing to share some of the weight, but Zhao Jing's load was just as heavy as his, if not heavier.
Although the basket on his own back looked taller, its contents were bulky but not heavy. Zhao Jing, on the other hand, had five boxes stacked in his basket, all filled with the incense his sister had made.
