"Jiatang." Fang Jin secretly stretched out a hand and felt the corner of the table. It was made of bamboo, its edges polished exceptionally smooth, though there was occasionally a hard bamboo joint. "How long have you lived here?"
Lu Jiatang propped his head up sideways and lightly patted Fang Jin's chest with his other hand, pretending not to notice the hand he had extended. "Almost eight years."
Fang Jin said, "When I was in Uranium River, I rented that little courtyard and wanted to fix it up like this too, but I didn't know how. I'm especially bad at handiwork."
"What a coincidence. I'm good at handiwork," Lu Jiatang said. "I learned it from my grandfather."
"Really?"
"Mm." Lu Jiatang continued, "Whatever you like in the future, as long as I can make it, I'll make it for you."
Fang Jin turned to smile at him, his eyes bright. "I want a room like this."
"No problem!"
Lu Jiatang was not showing off. His craftsmanship really was decent. He was not as uniquely ingenious as his grandfather, but he was far above the average person. Besides, practice made perfect. Maybe while making things for Fang Jin, he would unknowingly learn how to make everything?
"You've aired out enough, right?" Lu Jiatang said softly. "Pull your hand back."
Fang Jin gave a soft snort and withdrew into the covers, facing Lu Jiatang as he peacefully closed his eyes.
He did not tell Lu Jiatang that he seemed to have seen his mother in his dream. She had spoken gently, though he had forgotten what she said. Perhaps she had been blessing him too.
The next morning, Fang Jin got up to shower immediately. He was drenched in sweat, but fortunately Lu Jiatang had prepared fresh clothes for him. When Fang