Qin Xin's crisp call made the man in the courtyard shiver suddenly.
The originally quiet courtyard, the bamboo curtain at the window of the main room, "swish—" opened, through a layer of hazy light gauze, the man sitting cross-legged on the bamboo couch held his breath and looked at the girl flying towards him like a lark from the door.
The man's Adam's apple rolled.
He quickly picked up the thin bamboo mask from the desk and put it on, his tone indifferent: "You, why, have you returned?"
Among the cold seriousness, there was an almost imperceptible pause and tremble.
Qin Xin pouted slightly, and said in a slightly reproachful tone: "Master Tuantuan, people come back to see you, aren't you welcoming or surprised at all? What's this tone, as if I'm a debt collector who shouldn't be here."
After the train, car, donkey cart, horse carriage, and gravel road, her feet were sore from walking.
Master doesn't even care a bit, how frustrating.
