Just as Wang Dachun thought of Feng Qingxue and Fubao, he saw Fubao her with a willow basket picking wildflowers on the roadside, humming a song. He didn't know what she was singing, but it sounded very pleasant.
"Fubao, why are you here alone?" With such a careful cousin, would she really let her daughter go out by herself?
As soon as his words fell, Guan Yu's head popped out from behind the stack of firewood, holding a grass insect woven from wheat straw, and said with a cheerful smile, "Big cousin, there's me. What are you up to? Weren't you supposed to pick up new sent-down youths? I heard they are from the Capital. How are they? Are they as delicate as the previous ones, complaining that our pots and stoves are to blame when they burn the rice?"
Wang Dachun knocked on his head, "Don't let Fubao out of your sight!"
"Got it, big cousin, but you haven't answered my question," Guan Yu said, clearly interested in those sent-down youths.
