This day that A Luo returned, the sunlight was cool and bright, gentle as moonlight. Wu Qian retrieved the clothes that the neighbouring auntie had washed and dried, spreading it on the wooden chair, having everyone else clear up their own. A Yin had just picked up a shawl with tassels, having a bit of a hard time remembering if was her own or Shijiu's, spreading it open to look at it carefully, and then, in the small openings made by the openwork patterns, saw A Luo stepping through the door. So, her and A Luo's reunion carried along with it a faint scent of honey locust. In a split second, the bustling hall fell into silence. One of Li Shiyi's legs stradled the the sofa's armrest, and Song Shijiu sat on a somewhat lower cushion, leaning against her, the motion of her hands folding a coat slowing. Wu Qian straightened, and A Yin set the shawl down, placing it on her knees and twisting it for a moment, instinctively moving her gaze away, staring at the pile of clothes f...