As the winter vacation approached, He Fang became increasingly restless, always lost in thought.
Qin Guanglin saw her staring blankly at the calendar again but didn't disturb her. Instead, he quietly took out the homework she had brought back and started correcting it.
Primary school homework, especially language homework, was just a mechanical task—copying ancient poems and textbook passages. It was all copying, with the occasional diary entry that was both laughable and tear-jerking.
"This one was written with two pens."
Qin Guanglin had a sharp eye and promptly set aside the lazily done work for He Fang to see when she came over.
Someone was definitely going to be unlucky tomorrow.
"You're quite skilled at spotting these, you must have done this a lot, huh?" He Fang picked it up and inspected it closely before realizing the trick.
"Our Chinese teacher back then was a real piece of work…" Qin Guanglin clicked his tongue and glanced at He Fang, then suddenly fell silent.