She had specifically picked out pieces of a disassembled frame at the scrap collection station. Once she cobbled them together, the bed was only missing one leg.
Feng Qingxue then made a makeshift coffee table, placing it under the short end of the bed. The bed corner was now slightly elevated, but it was tolerable.
As for making doors and windows, Feng Qingxue was at a loss.
"Let's leave it as is for now. After all, we don't have anything worth stealing in our house." Feng Qingxue clapped her hands, glancing at the sky. She had hustled an entire afternoon away, and dusk was near.
Qingyun was buzzing around the bed, "Sister, we have a bed now. If only we had a quilt."
In the past, she and her sister did have a quilt; old as it was, her sister always kept it clean, with soft, fluffy cotton battings. But when they were driven from their home, their sister-in-law claimed it for herself.
The sister-in-law was the worst – nasty and domineering.