At night, the headlamp that had been fully charged during the day was hung from the ceiling to serve as light. Xia Huai'an's index finger pressed against the calloused knuckle of Yufang's finger. Holding a wolf-hair brush, he wrote the final stroke of the character "bone" on gypsum-processed white light paper.
As usual, Xia Huai'an was teaching Yufang how to write hand-in-hand.
The poem he taught her today was: "Behind vermilion gates wine and meat go to waste, while out on the roads lie the bones of those who have frozen to death."
Chapter 88