Xiao Yuchuan stared at Su Qingyue for a moment, but she refused to promise not to steal from home anymore. Annoyed, he decided not to pay her any attention, entered the room, and took a needle and thread basket to sit under the eaves.
Su Qingyue blinked a few times, was he really... embroidering?
Indeed, he was embroidering on a piece of cloth, with a half-finished lotus flower on it. The embroidered flower looked lifelike, almost like a real one.
His needlework was fast and neat, and the embroidery was exceptional – clearly he was an experienced embroiderer.
It was unexpected that a man who could beat himself into a pig's head would be so skilled in such delicate work. In modern times, this must have been a lost art. In ancient times, usually, women did the embroidery, and men who could work with needles and threads must have been rare too.
Xiao Yuchuan saw her looking at him, and waved her over.
She went to him.
