If there was anything to regret about coming home these days, Ye Zi'an felt that the only, and greatest, regret was that he hadn't been able to eat meat.
He could only look and hold it but not eat it. Speaking of which, it was quite frustrating—it wasn't that others didn't allow him to eat; it was more that he couldn't bear to eat it. Who could he blame?
"Ah..." Pondering over this, Ye Zi'an heaved a sigh of melancholy, and then remembering that in half a month he would have to leave for Mianyang, he dreaded the thought that it wouldn't just be months but at least a year or two before he could see his son and wife again, and even less so to eat meat. This thought made the days seem unbearable, so he sighed deeply once more, "Ah..."
His continuous sighing caused Yang Chuxia, who had rarely stopped her embroidery to make a purse, to cast a sideward glance at him.
"Why are you sighing over and over again all of a sudden?"