The yamen runners from the government office drew their sabers and put on a show of shouting in every direction, but where was there even the shadow of a person to be seen?
Wuniang ignored the two men's performance. She merely stared fixedly at the black-clad man on the ground, then turned her gaze toward the open sack. Delight surged in her eyes. She hurried over and tore open the sack in a few swift motions, revealing the little girl inside, unconscious with her eyes shut. The woman shouted, "Child's father, come quickly! It's our Zaizai! She's been saved!"
The middle-aged scholar, who had been crouching on the ground in remorse and slapping his own face, immediately stood upon hearing this and tried to head over. Perhaps because he had crouched too long and his legs had gone numb, after only a few steps his feet gave way. He fell flat on his face. Yet he hurriedly scrambled back up as though he did not care about the mud covering his body and face, then rushed over. The moment he saw his daughter, he smiled like a child. "Zaizai, Zaizai, it really is Zaizai! Heaven has eyes!"
After saying that, he reached out, wanting to stroke the child's face, only to realize his hands were caked with mud. He quickly drew them back and rubbed them hard against his clothes before carefully reaching out again. He feared dirtying the child's face with his hands, yet wanted to personally verify that she truly existed. In the end, he could only lightly touch her little face and brush aside the hair on her cheeks before withdrawing his hand in relief.
Wuniang lifted Zaizai out of the sack, while the scholar spotted the black-clad man on the ground. Fierce light instantly burst from