"How many years?" Mr. Sun sighed at those few years. To have such strong brushwork in just a few years is not easy.
"Yeah," Qin Xiangnuan slightly lowered her eyes, gently pinching her fingers together.
"My family only has me and Eldest Brother, I was very young then, desperately writing Spring Festival couplets to earn money to support myself and brother," during those years, she would go out to sell every year. Writing was one part, selling was another. She wasn't so noble as to feel ashamed of associating calligraphy with money. Selling Spring Festival couplets was not disgraceful, nor was it arrogant, nor pretentious.
When even food was scarce, what was the use of being haughty?
