Seeing it was getting late, she cooked another piece of beef, chopped up a juicy white radish to go with it, and put it all in a clay pot to simmer over a small charcoal stove.
By the time she finished, Mother Yang and Qingmu had returned.
Qingmu carried a load of quilts so large it looked like a small mountain on his shoulder pole. Despite his height, he was buried under the load, with only his head visible.
Juhua's eyes crinkled in delight as she looked at the tall stack of quilts. She felt a warmth spread through her, as if she were already nestled in a soft bed. Even Zheng Changhe grinned from ear to ear at the sight of the new quilts, feeling as though their little mud-brick, thatched-roof house had suddenly become much warmer and more prosperous.
Seeing her daughter's happy expression, Mother Yang's heart ached with emotion. 'Spending all that silver today was worth it, after all,' she thought.
