Chapter 421 Isn't it Coincidental_1

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The morning sun was splendid, and the tender buds of the jujube trees emerged, their color gradually deepening.

Wulong used a silly chicken as a pillow, gnawing on a cow bone, his sleek black fur shimmering with silver light.

Humming an unknown tune, Fan Xinglai picked up the Lang Grass and headed back to the stable to cut it into pieces to feed the horses.

The lingering scent of cooking hung in the air, and large bowls were submerged in the iron pot.

Auntie Zhang used a fire poker to spread the charcoal embers around, sending up delicate sparks, heating the water until it shimmered with a multicolored oily sheen.

Add soap, create bubbles; wash with the tender insides of an old loofah, rinse twice, leaving it clean and sparkling.

With nothing particular to do, Su Guishan brought out a reclining chair to bask in the sun, half asleep and half awake.

Inside the quiet room.