Wuming

When the child started crying, Sang Ying and Jiang Zhuoxue both panicked.

They had rarely interacted with such young children before, and this was the first time they had ever experienced something that made someone cry.

After a flurry of activity, Sang Ying quickly said, "Don't cry. We weren't paying attention today. Are you hurt anywhere? We'll make up for this pot of soup. First, check if you've been burned."

The child was enveloped in a deep sadness, and the word "compensation" barely managed to reach his ears.

Upon hearing this, the child seemed to suddenly come to his senses.

He was initially delighted, but then awkwardly lowered his head. "Actually, it's not your fault. I was running too fast because the soup was getting cold. I bumped into something and lost my balance."

Sang Ying hadn't expected him to say that. She patted his head and continued, "It's alright. It's fate that we met in this city. How about this pot of soup be my gift to you?"

While the two were talking, Jiang Zhuoxue had already taken the initiative to find the nearest restaurant and ordered the most expensive soup on the menu.

Thinking that the jar in the child's arms was also broken, he went and bought an identical one.

Fortunately, the child's jar was very ordinary and could be easily bought on the street.

When Jiang Zhuoxue returned with the jar, less than half an hour had passed.

"Take this jar; I've tied a rope to it, so you can carry it. The soup inside is fresh out of the pot, so it might be a bit hot," Jiang Zhuoxue carefully instructed.

The child initially wanted to refuse, but Jiang Zhuoxue didn't give him a chance and shoved the jar into his hands as soon as she arrived.

The child opened his mouth as if to say something, but when he looked up, the two people had already disappeared.

He carefully opened the jar, and a richer, more intense aroma than the soup he had brought before wafted out.

After taking only a small sip, the child quickly put the cap back on.

This soup smells so good, it must taste delicious. He needs to hold the pot tightly and not drop it again.

After giving himself these few words of advice, the child continued running briskly in the direction he had originally intended to go.

In the slums, the Wuming man who had repeatedly urged his nephew to leave and never return was now standing in front of a window with several holes, peering out.

He didn't show any obvious expression on his face, but the old man who occupied the only bed in the room could see the worry in his eyes.

The old man clicked his tongue. "Didn't I say before that I'd keep my distance and never see you again? Now that you're just a little late, you're getting all nervous?"

The man, also known as Wuming, turned his head and glanced at the old man expressionlessly. Only after confirming that the old man had received his warning look did he turn his head back to look out the window.

After the old man exposed his lie, Wuming's worry was written all over his face. He wanted to distance himself from his nephew, who had already been given away to someone else, but he was also genuinely worried that something might happen to his nephew on the way.

As the sky outside gradually darkened, Wuming's furrowed brows deepened.

"Don't worry, I've already done a divination for your nephew. Not only will he be fine, but he'll actually have good luck." The old man was a soft-hearted person, and even though he was usually a bit too mean, he still chose to comfort him at this time.

Even though Wuming usually looked down on the old man, he actually believed in the old man's divination from the bottom of his heart.

So as soon as he said his nephew was alright, Wuming visibly relaxed a lot.

And just as the old man had said, not long after, a familiar figure appeared in Wuming's sight. The child was carrying a jar and walking cautiously through the slum, his movements more careful than ever before.

Wuming didn't miss this scene either. This time, before the child could even knock, Wuming opened the door and came out to greet him.

"Uncle, why did you come out to open the door for me today?" the child asked, his face full of surprise.

He was about to go inside when Wuming stopped him. The tall man grabbed a section of the obviously dirty hem of his clothes, forcing the child to stop.

"What happened? What happened on your way here? Did someone bully you?" Thinking of this possibility, Wuming's face darkened again.

The child was startled by his serious expression, but quickly explained, "No, uncle, no one bullied me."

He replied with that first sentence, then forcefully pushed aside the Wuming blocking the doorway and put the jar he had been carrying all the way into the house.

The house where the Wuming and the old man were temporarily staying was considered dilapidated even by the standards of a slum. The roof had been neglected for years and had several holes. During the day, it was alright, as some natural light could seep in from outside, adding some brightness to the house. But at night, snakes and insects would crawl in through these holes, causing the two men a lot of trouble.

The only bed was made of wooden planks, with a dirty and tattered quilt on top.

The child looked at the table in front of him, then glanced cautiously at the table legs that had been repaired many times.

Wuming noticed his little trick and immediately replied, "I've fixed it again, the table won't fall over. Tell me quickly, why are you so dirty?"

Urged on by the Wuming one, the child finally spoke slowly, "I was running too fast today and fell, breaking the pot and the soup. A fairy sister passing by took pity on me and bought me a new soup. Uncle, come and drink, it's still hot!"

The child went to the usual spot to look for bowls and chopsticks, only to find that there was now a brand new bowl in the cupboard where there used to be only two.

The old man, who had been lying in bed, sat up. Seeing the child looking at the new bowl, he chuckled and explained, "Your uncle bought this especially for you, afraid you wouldn't get to drink any soup."

The child's eyes lit up instantly, and he looked at his uncle with great surprise.

Wuming hadn't expected the old man to betray him so quickly. He instinctively avoided his nephew's gaze. But upon seeing the surprise in the old man's eyes, Wuming stopped moving.

He coughed lightly, acknowledging the old man's words. "Yes, it's for you."

The child's expression brightened even more.

So the three of them actually sat down at that small, worn-out square table and each drank the precious soup from the jar.

Because Jiang Zhuoxue didn't skimp on Spirit Stone at all, and he chose the best restaurant in the city, the soup contained a lot of nourishing ingredients that were also full of Spiritual Qi. The three of them could tell as soon as they tasted it.

The old man and the Wuming man exchanged a glance, neither of them revealing their thoughts to the child. It was rare for them to sit down and drink soup so calmly.

After finishing the bowl of soup, the child was about to leave.

He stood hesitantly at the door for a long time, holding the new jar, gazing longingly at his only remaining relative.

Wuming pursed his lips and remained silent for a long time, finally giving in to his nephew's gaze. "You can come once every three days from now on."

"Yay!" The child jumped up happily and immediately picked up the jar and walked away.

Once the child had walked away, the old man suddenly clicked his tongue again.