On the morning of the seventh day of the first lunar month, people who got along well with the Xu family came to contribute to Huixin's trousseau. Some brought a piece of fabric, others a pair of pillowcases, and there were also those who contributed several embroidered pouches; for the families of farmers, this was considered quite generous. Of course, if it was a relative senior to the bride, the gift would be more valuable, like Mrs. Liu, Mr. Xu's cousin and Huixin's paternal aunt, who gave a silver hairpin, albeit a thin one, but still worth some money.
Huixin, dressed in a red outfit, sat on the bed in the east room, smiling and nodding continuously at the guests.
"You know," Mrs. Liu said, holding Huixin's hand, "our Huixin is really quite the beauty. Ever since last year, she's been in good health, and just look at her complexion now, fair with a rosy glow, truly someone to cherish. That lad from the Tao family, he's got good taste, choosing our Huixin."
