Of course, Zhang Xiaya also gave Tang Yuxin a lump of mud, saying that they should make a stove and a pot with it.
Tang Yuxin looked at her clean little hands and the clean clothes she put on just today. She wasn't one to play with mud; while other kids had their clothes washed by their mothers, hers were washed by her father.
Her father was already very busy and tired, so sometimes her uncle would help wash her clothes.
The men of the Tang family were homebodies, the quietly dependable sort that only those with discerning eyes would appreciate.
Zhang Yindi sniffled on her long, runny nose.
"Yuxin, aren't you playing?"
"No," Tang Yuxin pinched her fair, tender small fingers, "Dad changed me into new clothes today, I don't want them to get dirty."
"Then give yours to me."
Zhang Yindi, with her mud-covered hands, immediately reached out to grab the lump of mud Tang Yuxin was holding as if someone would snatch it away.