Ran Qingchen lightly hopped off the carriage and looked up to see her husband, holding a bowl and seated on the ridge of the roof. The woman paused, her face showing confusion.
She thought to herself that her husband's preferences were indeed unusual.
On the eve of the Lunar New Year, he was sitting on the roof eating dumplings.
"Is there something wrong?"
Jiang Shouzhong asked in a daze.
The woman casually swept some strands of hair behind her ear, revealing half of her snow-white neck, and spoke softly to the man with a smile, "As a wife, one should always spend the New Year at home. Wherever my husband is, that's where my home is."
Under the night sky, the woman in a blue dress was as quietly beautiful as a lotus.
Jiang Shouzhong was momentarily stunned.
He felt that for a long time to come, this image would be indelibly etched in his memory.
With a flutter of movement, a fragrant breeze approached.
