Qin Xiangnuan silently walked in, following the equally dejected Conghua, and she herself was practically speechless, wishing she could hug Conghua and cry out loud. Conghua looked wronged, its eyes widened, its tail no longer wagging because its claws were no longer painted with the red nail polish.
With a pink bow tied on its tail, it wouldn’t be an issue if Conghua were a female dog, but it was male, a male! Such a magnificent Conghua was tormented beyond recognition.
As person and dog sat in silence, Qin Xiangnuan was scared upon her first encounter with Jian Zhiqing’s aunt.
The Jians probably cherished daughters even more because they had none. Both Li Qiuhua and Jian Li adored girls, but they only had sons. After giving birth to Jian Zhiqin, Li Qiuhua suffered a health setback, and the doctor advised against having more children for fear of endangering her life. Li Qiuhua thought to herself, two sons it is then, and never considered trying for another child. Jian Li only had Taotao, and then family planning began, and as state officials, they were not allowed to have more children.
Thus, the Jians didn’t have a daughter, and neither did the Qiao Family.
Finally, there was Qin Xiangnuan, such a well-behaved and obedient girl, still young in age, and Li Qiuhua truly began to treat Qin Xiangnuan as her own daughter. Moreover, Qin Xiangnuan was her lifesaver, having saved little Jian Zhiqin twice. With gratitude and affection, it was natural for her to enjoy coming here. Whenever she had nothing to do, she would bring Qin Xiangnuan lots of nice things, clothes, snacks, and many little trinkets.
Qin Xiangnuan was grateful, but too much enthusiasm could also be quite frightening.
Qin Xiangnuan always thought she lacked the knack for getting along with her elders, but here, it was different. Whether it was members of the Jian family or the elderly Mr. Sun and his wife, everyone liked her.
Perhaps it was because she interacted with everyone with sincerity.
The clothes she made for Jian Ming were almost finished. The material was high-quality wool bought from the system, thankfully at a discount, otherwise, she couldn’t have afforded such fine fabric. The shirt was also made of high-quality pure linen, not clingy, cool for summer wear, and very comfortable. She made two shirts in total, one of plain cotton in a light gray shade, and the other of pure linen, offering a choice of wear. Although pure linen was nice, expensive, and status-symbolizing, it wrinkled easily. However, she had to admit, clothes made from this fabric were incomparable to those from ordinary materials.
As for why she made two, it was too hot in the summer, and she wondered if wearing a suit would cause heat rash. She didn’t mention the rash; wearing it for a single day could make the clothes stink. For the sake of a good image, having a spare was necessary.
She placed the completed outfit aside, then sat down at her embroidery frame. Her Qingming River Painting was nearing completion, with only the final touches remaining. This Qingming River Painting had taken her over half a year to embroider, which translated to six years in the outside world. Six years—every time she had a moment, she would work on it. She had no idea how much it would be worth after six years of effort.
Just as she bit off the thread, the system panel flashed into existence, and the Qingming River Painting in front of her disappeared.
Suddenly, several lines of text appeared on the clear system interface.