Spring rain in Jiangnan always arrives in silence.
Shen Qing carried a simple oiled paper umbrella, walking slowly along a bluestone path. Xingye followed beside her, his small hand gripping the hem of her skirt tightly, while his other hand held a newly purchased sugar figurine, which he would occasionally lick with his small tongue.
"Mother, where are we going?" Xingye looked up, his small face dampened by the rain that caught on his eyelashes.
Chapter 75