Xiao Yong had never seen such a sight, and he found it extremely novel. Wheat fields were transformed into threshing floors; they were rolled on the ground, sprinkled with water, and eventually gleamed brightly in the sunlight. Barefoot, he ran around the threshing floor, frolicking and playing wildly.
The simple pleasures of the peasant children amazed Xiao Yong, and he played with boundless joy.
The two guards, initially worried, eventually found peace with the situation, adapting as quickly as if they were flying. After all, the Prince had entrusted the young master to their care—if he wanted to play wildly, so be it! The young master was someone who knew his limits after all.
This year, Xiao Yong had just turned eleven, still a Little Radish, but raised with the strict discipline of the royal palace, he matured like a little adult. Now, however, he was just like any other child of about ten years old.
