「That night.」
The sky was starless and moonless, shrouded by heavy clouds.
Ye Chutang was enjoying a rare moment of peace, sitting idly by the window with a book.
Xiao Wu sat across from the small table, a brush in hand, her expression serious as she wrote.
Third Brother had said that now that she was over five, it was time for her to practice her calligraphy seriously.
Otherwise, if she kept putting it off, her handwriting might end up like Fourth Brother's—nothing but chicken scratch.
And it would be much harder to correct by then.
On every ten-day break, Third Brother would personally inspect her work.
The thought of Fourth Brother's penmanship made Xiao Wu shudder. She was terrified hers would turn out the same, so she practiced her calligraphy every day with utmost diligence and concentration.
The candle burned quietly, its warm, orange glow casting the silhouettes of the woman and the little girl onto the windowpane, creating a scene of unique tranquility.
