"Not bad at all," Qin Xiangyang blew on the Spring Festival couplets his sister had written, "I really didn’t expect my sister’s calligraphy to be so good, it looks even better than the ones sold outside."
"Brother would be able to write after a few years of practice too," Qin Xiangnuan had just finished another set and put it aside with Qin Xiangyang, waiting for the ink to dry.
Moreover, Qin Xiangyang got a headache as soon as he heard his sister’s words. What was this about practicing for a few years? Forget a few years, even one day was too much. He would rather carry a hoe and farm the land than to use such soft and disobedient brushes. Not to mention writing a few characters, even just dabbing the brush on the paper made his hands shake and caused him to sweat.
He really had no interest or talent in this.
Qin Xiangnuan’s hand was becoming sore from writing. She put down her brush, rubbed her aching right wrist — she was still too young, having written just over a dozen pieces, she couldn’t continue.
She locked herself in the room, which was actually her entering the system. In it, she started writing one after another. When her right hand was tired, she switched to her left, and when her left hand got tired, she switched back to her right. Therefore, she wrote exceptionally quickly, but she practiced both her left and right hands’ writing to be completely different.
The right hand was forceful, the left hand gentle.
The right hand was masculine, the left hand delicate.
With such different strokes, unless she told someone that these were written by her left and right hands, no one would believe that one person could produce two completely different styles of handwriting.
Left hand representing this life, and the right hand reincarnation.
"Brother, let’s go sell the Spring Festival couplets."
Qin Xiangnuan opened the door and stepped out, tightening the cotton-padded clothes on her body. They were rather old, handed down from the child of one of Aunt Hua’s relatives. The clothes weren’t torn, just small, so they were given to her. Although she and her brother now had money, during this time, most cotton-padded clothes were homemade and old ones felt comfortable as they became softened from washing. As long as they were clean, there was nothing wrong with wearing them twice—she wouldn’t despise them. After all, she had already worn old cotton-padded clothes for two lifetimes.
In her past life, she first wore Qin Pengfei’s, then Qin Xiangmei’s clothes. She never had new clothes of her own. Even when she was sold by Hu Li to that pervert Wang Chaowa, she never wore new clothes. Later, after Wang Chaowa died, she still lived in constant fear and emptiness, further having to repay the Wang Family’s debts.
Thinking back now, truly, her past life was worse than a dog’s existence, living entirely for others.
So, she hated. She truly hated.
She hated Hu Li, hated Qin Guohua, hated Qin Xiangmei, hated Qin Pengfei, hated everyone who had wronged her, and she also hated the Wang Family.
Thus, in this lifetime, she must live well, very well indeed. If she thrived, those people would be distressed. That was her goal: to make them suffer. The more distressed they were, the better; to her, their suffering to death would be best.
Qin Xiangyang had finished heating the kang, covering the fire with sawdust.
This way, when they returned home, the kang would still be warm, and they wouldn’t need to light it again. In the countryside, people used their own cornstalks, cobs, and collected firewood, along with some dry leaves and straw, to heat their kang beds. Qin Xiangyang and his sister did not have these things because they didn’t own any land. Their fuel for heating the kang was provided by Aunt Hua, whose family had an abundance that they couldn’t burn through in a year. Every household planted corn and harvested the stalks annually, typically resulting in surplus stalks piled up in the fields. Now that Aunt Hua’s family had two more members providing labor, and with Qin Xiangyang and his sister’s few acres of land, they had heaps of cornstalks left in the fields for the winter.