The clay in Li Rou's hands went crooked again, and her heartbeat quickened.
What was going on? Was he confessing his feelings?
Li Rou was a little dazed. This was all a bit too sudden for her.
Fortunately, Zhuang Qiao wasn't asking for an answer right away. "You don't have to rush to answer. We have plenty of time ahead of us."
Li Rou murmured a quiet "Mm" and lowered her head to keep playing with her clay.
Only after washing the dishes did Yu Xiuyuan and Yun Chuan leisurely head outside, wandering aimlessly along the flagstone path.
The town wasn't big, but traces of the past were everywhere. Dried corn and chilies hung beneath the eaves of white walls and dark-tiled roofs, wooden doors stood half open, and now and then, an elderly resident sat out in the sun on a bamboo chair by their doorway.
Yu Xiuyuan looked around as he walked, holding up his phone to photograph the moss on the walls and the grass growing between the roof tiles.
Yun Chuan kept pace beside him, unhurried, occasionally standing behind him to shield him from passing pedestrians when he crouched down to take a photo.
As they approached a small stone bridge, they came across an older woman with a little stall at the bridgehead.
An assortment of handmade trinkets lay on a bamboo tray: braided knots, carved wooden birds, and a few sachets made from floral fabric.
Yu Xiuyuan glanced at them and kept walking, but Yun Chuan stayed where he was, his gaze fixed on a tiny red object in the corner of the tray.
It was a red bell the size of a mung bean, threaded onto a thin red cord. It was exquisitely made.
Yun Chuan picked it up and held it in