A few of the windows downstairs were open, and a spring breeze filled the house with the bouquet of spring.
Song Qingchun changed into her indoor slippers and dropped her bag on the coffee table. She moved to close all the windows on the first floor before heading upstairs. The door to Su Zhinian's bedroom was open and like usual; everything was in its place. There was no sign of chaos within observable range; even the air in his room was suffused with his unique faded scent.
Song Qingchun returned to her own bedroom. The closet that she left in a state of mess had been cleared, and her laundry had been done and arranged in the cupboard, neatly categorized.
Song Qingchun changed into a cotton casual outfit and wandered downstairs to prepare dinner. After she prepared a tableful of dishes, Song Qingchun walked into the dining room, and the clock on the wall told her it was 8.05 pm.
