The winter had passed, and spring had just arrived.
It was drizzling outside the window. Everything that had been silent for months began to recover.
In the cave abode.
Chen An lay lazily on a bamboo chair and closed his eyes to rest while soaking in the tune from his wife's flute.
The sound of the flute was like the spring rain after winter, bringing with it a hint of intoxicating warmth, nourishing his heart that was still curled up and sleeping in the winter, reviving his vitality and refreshing him.
As the briar flowers suddenly fell outside the window, a rich fragrance followed closely behind, drawing the end of the melodious flute sound.
"Husband, how's my flute technique? Has it improved a lot?"
Song Huaying noticed the comfortable smile on Chen An's lips and pursed her red lips slightly. Her voice was as pleasant as the chirping of an oriole.