The night market quietly descended.
Jiang Nuo came out of the kitchen after washing the dishes and saw his wife hugging the sketchbook again, drawing away. He draped his long arms around her neck discontentedly, "Wife, you don't love me!"
Mu Qiuniang looked at him blankly, "What?"
"See, you don't care about me." Jiang Nuo felt even more aggrieved.
The confusion on Mu Qiuniang's face grew stronger: What did she do to him?
"You spend all day with the sketchbook; is the sketchbook more important than me?" Jiang Nuo said with a jealous look.
He thought it was ridiculous to be jealous of an object, but his wife always seemed absorbed in her sketchbook, with no room in her eyes for him. What to do?
Mu Qiuniang: Could she honestly admit that the sketchbook was indeed more important than him?
After all, it was fundamental to her cultivation.
