Siheyuan: I Marry Ran Qiuye, and Qin Huairu Cries Her Eyes Out

The outline of the house took shape in his mind: how the beams and pillars would be set, how the roof tiles would be laid, which way the door would face, even the first ray of sunlight reflected through the lattice window, all of it had already been planned. But he knew even better that building a house was not a matter of piecing together wood and stone, nor merely throwing up a shelter. It was a ritual of time, will, and spirit. Every strike of the hammer, every brick laid in place, was an inscription upon the future.