When pessimistic, all sorts of absurd thoughts inevitably arise.
This was indeed the case for Wang Xiaolong, who sat at the edge of a grave mound, his mind filled with bizarre ideas.
But just as he sank further and his rationality was about to be obliterated, a cool breeze suddenly swept over his head, snapping him back to a degree of clarity.
Wang Xiaolong's body shivered, feeling as though a beloved person had just touched his head.
It gave him a sense of intimacy and security.
He couldn't help but look around, his gaze finally resting on the top of the grave.
"Grandfather, is that you?"
No one responded, but that sense of closeness only grew stronger, as if his grandfather was right beside him.
Wang Xiaolong had never known his parents, to the extent that many villagers claimed he was a foundling.
Having grown up with his grandfather, their bond was naturally the deepest.
