Lin Qiao glanced down, noticing it was slightly open, but she nonchalantly adjusted it and asked, "Uncle, are there any more fruit trees?"
"Yes." Song Tingfan didn't dare to look at her, carrying the basket on his back, and quickly walked out with his head down.
They went to several more places and picked a total of ten or so fruits. Lin Qiao's feet were aching from walking. She secretly shook her feet several times, while Song Tingfan seemed unaffected, occasionally picking some wild herbs.
Really impressive stamina.
Afraid the fruits would spoil, Song Tingfan planned to sell them in town as soon as they got home. Lin Qiao was going to sell her drawings anyway, so she went along. As they were leaving, Song Qin insisted that they have a bowl of rice first.
At this time, the only transport to town was by donkey cart, and when they arrived, it was already quarter past noon.
Many stalls were empty, as it was afternoon. They found a spot under a tree and laid out the fruits.
