Zhang Guoqing stepped out of the study, closed the door behind him, and resumed his cheerful expression. He glanced around and wandered near the kitchen, peeking inside with disappointment, shaking his head.
Inside, only his mother-in-law and Aunt Chen were chatting and laughing while preparing a midnight snack.
Standing in the courtyard, he looked up at the lights upstairs, stood there for a moment in a daze, then quietly headed upstairs into the living room.
In the second-floor lounge, behind the large table, Zhou Jiao was fully immersed in her calligraphy, unaffected by the sound of the door opening or the silhouette appearing under the light.
Zhang Guoqing knew she was focused again.
He glanced at the discarded newspaper on the floor, the rice paper near his feet, held his breath, and crouched down, stacking the fallen sheets of rice paper together.
