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"I've only ever eaten the ones sold outside," Long Aixi said, and then looked at Xia Dabao, who continued to gather firewood. Whenever she had piled up a certain amount, he would take it from her hands and stack it into a pile.
"The children in our village can play with this all day, especially in winter, which is the sweet potato season. I'm not sure about the quality of this batch, but let's just burn some and see how they taste..." Xia Dabao said while picking up firewood.
Although it had rained yesterday, the morning sun had dried some of the surface firewood, which could be burnt.
At the foot of the mountain, one could hear a lot of insects chirping and birds singing. Long Aixi enjoyed moments like these, picking up firewood while listening to Xia Dabao's constant chatter, as if time itself slowed down.
