Wang Lian had come, bringing a few pairs of cloth shoes she’d sewn herself and a big bag of eggplants freshly picked from her own garden.
“Here, Sister Liu, try them on, see if they fit.”
With that she squatted in front of Liu Yumei holding a single green embroidered shoe, ready to help take off her shoe.
Liu Yumei put down her teacup, bent over and grabbed Wang Lian’s wrist.
“Go to the kitchen and bring me a hot water bottle. My water’s not hot anymore.”
“All right.”
By the time Wang Lian came back with the hot water bottle, Liu Yumei had already changed shoes.
They weren’t exquisite—no delicate finishing—but the stitching was solid, the embroidery not particularly lively, and it was obvious a lot of care had gone into them.
“Not bad. They fit well and feel comfortable.”
Wang Lian: “That’s good. I made a pair each for Lord Ting and Lord Li too. The kids won’t make them; young people these days don’t like cloth shoes.”
Liu Yumei shook her head. “It’s only now they think wearing cloth shoes is embarrassing. When they’re old and want to wear them, there’ll be no one left to make them.”
Wang Lian chatted a little longer, then picked up a broom and began sweeping.
When Aunt Liu came over to set up the card table, Wang Lian volunteered to help carry the tables and chairs.