The days passed one by one. Lin Jianqiu's arrival was like a small pebble tossed into the not-so-tranquil pond of the family compound.
Her inability to fit in was obvious.
She didn't know how to use the communal kitchen's large stove. Her attempts to light a fire filled the room with smoke, making everyone cough and choke.
She was accustomed to her own refined ways, washing dishes slowly and methodically. Her pace was completely out of sync with the bustling, energetic wives of the compound.
Furthermore, she always spoke softly, using slightly archaic, bookish words.
When others talked about "eating," she would say "partaking in a meal." When they mentioned "doing chores," she would say "attending to tasks." It sounded awkward to people, who thought she was putting on airs and being pretentious.
But the worst of it was her feet.
