April began.
The temperature rose day by day, and the annoying willow catkins began to drift in the air. A gust of wind could whip up tiny whirls of white fuzz on the ground.
Before he knew it, another year had passed.
The fifteenth day after the spring equinox, between mid-spring and late spring, was the Qingming Festival.
A holiday.
"Are you really not going?"
"Just go, I'm going to sleep a bit longer."
He Fang, hugging her blanket with her back to the door, waved her hand without turning her head.
"Alright, just make sure to eat well at noon. I might be back late... We'll have dinner at my place."
Guanglin advised her as she lay with her eyes closed, not moving; he shrugged his shoulders and left the door, "Alright, I'm leaving now."
In some places, there was a custom that women should not participate in tomb-sweeping, but his family didn't really mind that. Guanglin had wanted to take He Fang to visit, but she had refused.
