Wei Zhao awoke in the night.
Before he opened his eyes, he heard hushed voices in the room.
It was Yu Tingwan's voice, always wrapped in a daughter's gentle softness amidst the coolness.
"Mother, please go back and rest. If my husband wakes up, I will tell you."
"I'm worried sick and can't sleep."
Hui Niang glanced at Yu Tingwan, with a trace of affection in her eyes: "You've been working so hard, you must be tired too. Let me watch over Lang here, you should go to my room and sleep."
Yu Tingwan shook her head.
Her mind was in turmoil too.
The house had quite a few baskets piled up, but Hui Niang was thinking of selling them. She was still working on them under the faint light.
There would be many places to spend money in the future. Every basket they made, every penny saved, counted.
Besides weaving baskets from bamboo strips, she also made baskets, backpacks, and some delicate trinkets.
