They met at the edge of the village.
Zhen stood with her arms crossed, her white hair a mess, her purple eyes fixed on the ground. She didn't want to accidentally have eye contact with him.
Tao Zi stood a few feet away, his arms also crossed, his dark curls falling across his face. He was not looking at Zhen. He was looking at a very interesting tree.
Neither of them spoke to each other.
Han Shān looked at them. Yàn Shū stood beside him, his face arranged in an expression of stern authority.
It did not look right on him. His cheeks were too soft. His glasses were too crooked. He looked like a child playing dress-up in his father's clothes.
Zhen noticed.
"Why are you making that face?" she asked.
"What face?" Yàn Shū said softly.
"That face. The serious face. It looks silly on you."
Yàn Shū's ears went pink. "I am being stern."
"You look like you are constipated."
"Zhen."
"It is true. Ask Papa."
Han Shān said nothing. But his lips twitched.
