Mrs. Xie glanced at her son, not far away, and patted Nancy’s hand. Huang’s grandmother on the side had eased over and made a pot of Ningshen tea for the old lady.
Nancy looked at Mrs. Xie’s open-minded look, and felt a little blocked in her heart. Seeing there were several red sandalwood beads at her feet, Nancy stooped to pick up a bead, and found that the bead had a dull luster and cracks.
“Mother, there are cracks on this bead.”
Mrs. Xie stunned, leaning over to see the beads on Nancy’s hands, there were really cracks. Mrs. Xie didn’t know what she was thinking of, and smiled bitterly.
I couldn’t help but be thankful that my son was married.
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