In the distance, Yang Huaiqing’s voice rang out, calling, "Brother Wang, time to eat!" But Wang Jianguo remained crouched by the well, motionless.
The ice in the wooden basin bit into his knees, reminding him of that first night he arrived in Beidahuang. Hé Yǔshuǐ had draped her only quilt over him, curling up in a pile of hay and shivering the night through, only to claim the next day that she had been "sweating from the heat."
She was always like that—stuffing the warm, the sweet, and the best into his hands, while she remained like a weed in the corner, drinking in the coldest winds without ever bowing her head.
Chapter 745