"What's wrong?"
Tang Song noticed something was off with her. He turned his head and asked quietly.
"Nothing."
It was as if Zhang Yan had only just returned from somewhere far away. Her ears warmed slightly, and her fingers instinctively tried to release the hem of his clothes.
But the next second, Tang Song had already reached back and taken her hand.
Warmth filled his palm as he gave it a slight squeeze.
Zhang Yan paused.
A scattering of light quickly spread through her eyes, and the corner of her mouth slowly curved upward.
She took the initiative to slide her fingers into the gaps between his, interlocking them tightly with his.
"Tang Song, let's go in."
"Mm." Tang Song looked at her. "I've always wanted to see the place where you used to live."
The two of them walked up the two narrow steps together.
The door was half-open.
Zhang Yan gave it a push, and the iron gate opened with a creak.
Beyond the gate was a fairly narrow passageway. The cement floor had been swept spotless. Several sacks of corn were stacked neatly against the wall, while an electric scooter beside them charged quietly, its indicator light blinking on and off.
Past the passageway, the courtyard suddenly opened up before them.
It was a typical northern rural courtyard.
The kitchen was on the east side, while the living quarters stood to the west and north.
Bright red paper-cut decorations were pasted on the windows, and two strings of unlit firecrackers still hung beneath the eaves. The air carried the mingled aroma of stewed meat and fried meatballs, warm and rich—the scent of the New Year.
"Auntie, I'm back."
As Zhang Yan walked inside, she called out softly.
"I'm coming, I'm coming—who is it?"
The curtain over the