Zhulan regained her composure, "No need."
Qing Xue retreated back to her position, and Zhulan gestured for Qing Xue not to stand, "You should sit for a while too."
Qing Xue, "Understood."
Zhulan stretched out her hand to catch some rain, "This year, there's not much rain in the capital."
She had heard more than once from her eldest son that the grain was not growing well, and that there had been a reduction in the harvest this year, coinciding with the war. Even if the nation had reserves, it would still take a few years to recover.
In the evening, when Zhou Shuren returned, he heard his wife sneezing, "Are you catching a cold?"
Zhulan spoke with a nasal voice, "Mhm, I sat by the window for too long."
Zhou Shuren knew of his wife's inner anxiety despite her calmness, "Have you seen a doctor?"
"I've already seen one, it's nothing serious."
