The afternoon sun slanted in lazily, passing through the dusty glass windows and creating visible light paths in the air. In the air, there is the agarwood scent of old paper pages, mixed with the pungent chemical smell of the repair fluid. Su Wan has been smelling this smell for five years.
She lowered her head, concentrating as if she were performing a sacred ritual. The tweezers in his hand held a fragment smaller than a fingernail, and he carefully placed it on a damaged ancient book. There are little ink stains on my fingertips that I can't wash off and I don't bother to wash them off. It looks like a medal in this profession.
Quiet.
There was only the faint sound of the tip of the tweezers touching the paper.
And the old air conditioner in the corner was struggling to blow out cold air and making a regular buzzing sound.
Suddenly, a "ding dong" broke the tranquility.
Su Wan paused. She didn't look up, just frowned. It's that mobile phone that's been used for almost six years. The screen is cracked, but it still works. She put it aside and didn't want to pay attention to it.
The sound was unrelenting and rang several times in succession.
She sighed, put down the tweezers, and picked up her phone. The screen turned on, and a string of bright red numbers popped up, as if mocking her embarrassment. It's a reminder notice from the bank. This month's mortgage payment, as well as Xingchen's interest class fees for next semester, add up to a heavy figure.
Her fingertips were stained with ink, and she tapped lightly on the ancient wooden table, leaving a gray mark. That mark was very much like the shadow in her heart at this moment.
