As soon as she finished speaking, the woman stopped raising her hand, but her face had turned ashen.

Er Mao, who was in a fit of anger, noticed that his mother's expression was clearly different from before. He then belatedly realized that he had said something he should never have said.

The grievances and anger in his heart subsided in an instant, replaced by panic and regret. Er Mao hurriedly turned around to look for Wen'er, whom he had pushed away.

Only then did he realize that he had just pushed Wen'er into the wheat field, where she was still sitting with her back to him.

Next to Wen'er, her father had already walked over and squatted down beside her.

"Er Mao, what nonsense are you talking about?" the old man said with a stern face.

This made Er Mao even more flustered, even afraid, and filled with even stronger regret.

“Father, I…” he began in a trembling voice.

The woman then changed her attitude and said as she walked toward Wen'er, "Husband, this brat is just like that, he needs a good beating."

"This beating has taught her a lesson." As she spoke, she winked at her husband, as if to signal him to stop talking about it.

The man understood immediately. He glared at Er Mao, then lowered his head, took Wen'er's hand (who was hanging her head), and whispered, "Did you hurt your foot, little girl?"

Wen'er, who had been keeping her head down, finally lifted her face from under the large straw hat, and looked at her father with a smile:

"It's alright."

As she spoke, she slowly stood up, patted the dirt off her clothes, and turned to the woman, saying, "Mother... you can't hit my brother like that."

The woman knelt down, hugged Wen'er in her arms, and said gently, "I'll listen to you, my girl."

Er Mao didn't dare to look at Wen'er, but he couldn't help but glance at her. In that glance, he saw that Wen'er's eyes seemed to be red.

"Brother, does it hurt? Let me rub it for you." Wen'er stepped out of her mother's arms and walked towards Er Mao.

"No...it doesn't hurt." Er Mao stood on the ground with his head down, not daring to lift his head at all.

Wen'er, who had come over, bent down and carefully rubbed Er Mao's thigh, which had been slapped, while asking him repeatedly:

"Does it hurt here, brother?"

The woman stepped forward and grabbed Wen'er's hand: "Let this little bastard have some more time to spare. Girl, come on, help me go back and start the fire."

"Mother, I..." Wen'er was about to refuse, but the woman grabbed her and left, saying, "Let's go, girl, we can't delay things."

The man then stood up and said, "Hurry up and cook, I'm starving."

Wen'er fell silent. The woman took her hand and walked along the ridge towards home, while the man sat down on the ridge.

Er Mao didn't dare to move and remained standing on the ground.

The man picked up the water jug, which had only a little water left, drank it, wiped his mouth, and stared silently at the endless wheat field.

After an unknown amount of time, in the midst of silence, the man reached out and patted the edge of the field:

"Come sit down, son."

With a heart full of trepidation, Er Mao finally moved and sat down next to his father with his head down.

The man didn't turn his head; he kept looking at the wheat field and said, "You're unhappy that Wen'er is more sensible than you."

Before he could finish speaking, Er Mao quickly said, "No, Dad, I was just talking nonsense, don't be angry..."

The man then turned his face and suddenly reached out his hand. Er Mao's heart skipped a beat, knowing that he was probably going to be beaten by his father. But to his surprise, his father's hand was only lightly placed on his head.

"Wen'er is so sensible. This girl used to be... sigh." The man sighed.

With that sigh, Er Mao's face fell, and a surge of regret welled up inside him. His eyes immediately reddened, and he leaned into his father's arms, saying:

"Father, I didn't mean to..."

The man stroked his son's head and said, "I know you didn't mean it."

“You are my son. My son may say nonsense, but he would never do anything nonsense.”

"But you still can't say such nonsense, son."

"It hurts people."

"Hmm..." Er Mao started sobbing, constantly whimpering.

The man held Er Mao in his arms, stroking his head, but his eyes were fixed on the wheat field, as if he were murmuring to himself:

"This girl has a hard life."

"Two years before she came to our family, I saw her wandering around the city. She was thin and small, and always alone."

“Your father isn’t a capable man either. It’s good enough if I can manage my own affairs. I’ve seen this girl several times, but I can only pretend I don’t see her. How could I dare to interfere? There are quite a few little beggars like her.”

"Thank God, the past two years have been blessed with favorable weather and abundant harvests. Everyone says it's a rare and good time. The prince has started a rebellion, raised the banner against the Jin dynasty, and established a new dynasty. This is also a great thing. One good thing after another has come at once."

The man smiled as he spoke, looked down at Er Mao, patted his head, and said:

"You did a good deed too, you brought this girl home, hehe." He chuckled.

Er Mao was still sobbing, but the sobbing gradually subsided.

The man continued in a gentle voice, "Your Majesty is wise and the government is efficient and the people are harmonious. This year, the country has undergone earth-shaking changes, and the changes seem to happen every day. Nothing new or strange anymore."

"For us, having enough to eat and wear, and a house to shelter us from the wind and rain is a wonderful thing. Now you can even go to school. Don't you think that's great?"

Er Mao, nestled in his father's arms, wiped away his tears and nodded.

"I've heard that some schools are now admitting girls? Is that true?" the man asked.

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