"If you're afraid, call me next time you fetch water, I'll also be here during the New Year."
The older woman was somewhat surprised, "Miss, you look just like a lady from an aristocratic family, why aren't you going home?"
Sangmo smiled, "I can't go back."
The older woman paused, realizing she had said something wrong, and laughed awkwardly, "Then come to the canteen more often to eat, I'll make sweet and sour ribs tomorrow."
During the gap of their conversation, the knocking sound stopped again.
As the New Year was approaching, Shen Yanqing allowed the hanging of curtains and the setting off of firecrackers on Changli Mountain.
In the evening when returning to Qingya Peak, the lanterns on the road had all turned into festive, bright red lanterns.
The red glow on the road even seemed a bit warm.
Just as Sangmo pushed open the gates of Changwu Residence, a burnt scallion scent suddenly assaulted her nostrils.
