The white walls and blue tiles of Literary Virtue Bridge had the charm of Jiang Province's water towns. Looking at the scenery under the light rain, it looked like a hazy ink painting.
Holding a white oil-paper umbrella, Luo Ning walked across the stone arch bridge spanning both sides of the river. Her footsteps were not fast, and her gaze was fixed on the tall door of a house by the river.
As a woman from a water town, Luo Ning had grown up in such an environment. When she was eleven or twelve years old, she would lie on the railings near the river and look at the talented scholars and beauties on the small boats coming and going. Occasionally, she would shyly fantasize about getting married when she grew up.
At the time, she thought that her husband should be peerlessly handsome and talented, wasn't as serious as her father, and would dote on her like doting on a child.
