The handwriting is clear, the brush strokes powerful and full of character; truly fine calligraphy. If one were to continue practicing, they would undoubtedly achieve great future success in this field. Moreover, one feels as if they can see the person behind the handwriting: a person with a broad mind, unrestrained with a hint of wildness, yet inherently meticulous.
She finished admiring the handwriting and then began to read what was actually written.
"Little girl, thank you for the shoes you made for the kid. He likes them a lot. These two military coats are from the army; I never wore them. I’ve exchanged them for smaller sizes to give to you. If there is a chance in the future, I’d like to have another bowl of your family’s sour noodles."
Beijing is so big, yet not a single place makes them better than your family does.
Just a few brief words, only a handful of lines.
Qin Xiangnuan already knew who had sent these.
She hugged the General’s coat close to her chest, as if she could still smell the faint scent of that young man. In that era of white garments fluttering about, you in your General’s coat and I in my patched rags.
Suddenly, she burst into laughter.
"What’s wrong, child?" Granny Lu touched Qin Xiangnuan’s forehead. "You’re not bewitched, are you?"
"Granny, I’m fine, just thought of something funny," Qin Xiangnuan awkwardly buried her face in the General’s coat, then shoved the coat into Granny Lu’s arms. "Granny, this is from a friend of mine in the army. He can’t wear so many military coats, take one each for you and big brother."
She was too thin to fill it out.
Granny Lu, who had a keen eye, instantly took a liking to the military coats. She thought about keeping both for Qin Xiangyang, so they could have something for the next couple of New Years.
Qin Xiangnuan flipped through the calendar; it was time for her to start preparing. Last year she made quite a bit of money selling Spring Festival couplets, so this year she had to write even more. And she needed to write some "blessing" characters too. Granny Lu could cut paper—she would trace out some fancy patterns for Granny Lu to cut and they could sell those as well.
"Nuannuan..." Qin Xiangyang’s voice arrived before he did. He burst through the door, a big stack of red paper in his arms.
"I’ve bought the red paper for you. Remember to write more Spring Festival couplets this year," he said, recalling the thrilling experience of counting money from last year’s sale, his teeth gleaming with the memory.
And he didn’t stop there; he grabbed a pair of scissors and started cutting the red paper.
"What are you doing?" Granny Lu hurried out, only to see red paper spread all over the floor and Qin Xiangyang squatting down, carefully cutting it with scissors.
"Granny..." Qin Xiangyang cracked a smile, "I’m cutting red paper. Nuannuan writes really well, we can sell the Spring Festival couplets she writes when New Year comes around."
Granny Lu was genuinely startled.
"Yangyang, can we really sell these?"
"Of course," Qin Xiangyang cheerfully snipped away with the scissors, "last year, Nuannuan and I sold them. We made over one thousand yuan. Each couplet was 50 cents, and people were fighting to buy them. This year we’re going to write more. Whether they are horizontal or vertical, it’s all our own work, and doesn’t cost much. At worst, if they don’t sell, we can give them away to the villagers."
Granny Lu was still somewhat incredulous. She had never seen Chun Xiangnuan practice calligraphy. This child, usually so quiet in her own little room, hardly ever came out. Could it be that this was what she was diligently working on all this time? Not until the next day did Granny Lu see Qin Xiangnuan’s handwriting for herself and finally believed Qin Xiangyang’s words. Indeed, her granddaughter had written a fine hand, one that would definitely be in demand if sold.