Time flows, and days and nights alternate.
The bustling atmosphere in the market still steams.
In just a few days, neighbors noticed that the old herbal shop, idle for months and neglected, was quietly rejuvenated.
The vermillion wooden doors reopened, the faint scent of herbs mixed with the morning dew wafting around the street corner, touching the heart.
Inside, the proprietors are a pair of young spouses.
The man wears a blue robe, with gentle brows and eyes, focused and attentive when taking pulses and diagnosing.
The woman, clad in a goose-yellow gown, with lively eyes and swift movements, efficiently grabbing and dividing herbs.
The husband sings and the wife follows, their gestures brimming with a harmony unattainable by others.
As if they've been married for decades, bringing a fresh warmth to the old herb shop.
Creak—
The morning sunlight just climbed over the shop's windowsill as the wooden door was gently pushed open.
