Time passed by three days in a state of Wu Xiucai's ceaseless regret, self-persuasion, more regret, and further self-persuasion.
Qiao Qingyu was well aware of her Grandpa Wu Xiucai's feelings at this moment—her maternal grandfather's emotions.
She took her grandpa around the village, went fishing with him by the unfrozen river, and set up a big pot in the courtyard to cook potatoes and corn together, filling the air with the sweet aroma of corn.
Even their meals were around a table set upon the heated brick bed. It all looked lively and warm, but Wu Xiucai truly wasn't accustomed to it.
Even during the war-torn years, he had never lived like this, and despite being adrift overseas, he had never suffered this much.
Yet his daughter felt perfectly at home here. He was neither pleased nor happy, just uncomfortable.
So it was said, old Wu Xiucai was like the weather—changing from sunny to cloudy, good to bad, laughing one moment and crying the next, upsetting everyone's hearts.
