The child was very strange. He looked about seven or eight years old, but his head was completely bald, and he wasn't wearing any clothes. Yet he clutched something like a writing brush tightly in his hand.
This child was none other than Wang Yue, who had just completed his tribulation.
As for drifting from the sea to Jiangdu, Yangzhou, it wasn't easy. But sometimes luck worked in mysterious ways. While Wang Yue was unconscious, a tornado swept him high into the sky and carried him all the way to the Grand Canal. From there, he drifted down to Yangzhou.
He Jiali couldn't make sense of what had happened, but being kindhearted, she still planned to take the child home.
He Jiali's grandmother, Madam He, had long since grown used to her granddaughter going to the Grand Canal every day to watch the boats. She knew He Jiali wasn't really watching the boats. She was waiting for her parents.
Just like Madam He, back when she had first married Old Man He, He Jiali often sat at the wharf, staring blankly at the boats coming and going.
The only difference was that Madam He had been waiting for her husband, while He Jiali was waiting for her parents.
Grandmother and granddaughter were both waiting for someone. It was just that Madam He no longer had to wait, while He Jiali had no idea how long she would have to.
But He Jiali came home a little later than usual that day, so Madam He decided to meet her at the wharf. Before she reached the village entrance, though, she spotted her eldest granddaughter struggling home with a child even bigger than herself on her back.
Madam He stared in astonishment, then asked in confusion, "Jiali, did you fall in the