Old Ding's youngest grandson lay sprawled out on the table, sipping the clear porridge that was devoid of a single grain of rice, forcing himself not to look at the chicken on the table. Yet occasionally, he couldn't help but sneak a peek.
The little grandson, around five or six years old, was named Ding Miao.
His name was likely chosen in the hopes that he would grow up just as smoothly and healthily as the seedlings in the fields.
The growth of the seedlings signified a year of abundant harvest.
The growth of a child signified a life of peace and smooth sailing.
Mo Hua finished the porridge in his bowl, ate a piece of chicken, then pushed the entire plate of meat towards Miao.
"I'm full, let Miao have it."
Old Ding hurriedly said, "How could we possibly accept this?"
Mo Hua said, "I'll ask you some questions, and you answer them for me. That will serve as payment for the Formation Painting."
