'Would she, like Juhua, one day feed eggs to a boy?' Unconsciously, Liu Sanshun's round, smiling face appeared in her mind. It was so comforting, not at all like her father's face, which was always stern and made people uneasy.
The two of them had picked half a basket of black moss, along with some shepherd's purse, and carried it to the riverbank to wash.
The few willow trees next to the blue flagstones had grown very tall, their branches swaying gracefully in the wind. Even the willow cuttings planted along the riverbank had grown into bushy tufts, their slender branches drooping to the ground. The small peach trees planted among them were also full of green leaves. One could imagine that in a few years, the banks of the Little Qing River in March would be a sea of pink blossoms and green willows.
