When Zhang Zhan went to look for Qin Huai, he saw that the kid had already packed his luggage and was sitting in the carriage. He was wearing a slightly dark green coat with light patterns on it. His hands hung on his knees, and his back was straight, his eyes indifferent.
He did not look like a child who was about to turn seven years old. Instead, he looked like an old monk who had returned to his youth.
"Little ancestor, can I call you my ancestor? Don't cause trouble for me at this time. I'm very busy here!" Zhang Zhan really was having a headache. "Now, there are still more than 100,000 refugees in the entire Yongding County who need me to settle them down and you're causing trouble here again. What do you want me to do?"
It was unknown what the higher-ups were thinking. This was a disaster relief and they had to comfort the victims. Yet the county magistrate had not arrived to help them deal with all kinds of chores.
