Uncle Zhao was chewing on a pipe. It was considered an antique now; Xiang Ning had seen an introduction of it in his history textbook. 

“Hehe, I’ll just play with it, I won’t smoke.” Uncle Zhao put away his bag of tobacco. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right? Xiaoyu—” 

“I’ve spoken to her, but I’m afraid she’ll be sulking.” Xiang Ning smiled, rubbing his cheek. He needed to alert Uncle Zhao about it too. 

“Heh, don’t worry about it. You’re all she has, and you’re leaving for roughly a month or so. A little worry is normal. Don’t worry about her, I’ll watch her for you,” said Uncle Zhao, pushing the...