"Xiao Jing, you've worked hard today again. It's all because of my poor health that such a young child like you has to take care of me," Zhang Ruicheng sighed, shaking his head as he spoke from his wheelchair.
Hearing Zhang Ruicheng say this, Qiao Jing stopped with the basket in her hand.
A face that was obviously only in her teens but was far more mature than her peers.
"Grandpa, don't say that. Xiao Jing is not tired. Xiao Jing is very strong and can do a lot of work. You used to look after me, and now that Xiao Jing has grown up, it's time for Xiao Jing to be filial to you."
The more Qiao Jing said this, the more Zhang Ruicheng's heart ached.
This child is truly pitiful. Back when he retired and returned, he heard the cries of a baby during a snowy day. Following the sound, he found Qiao Jing, just a half-exposed swaddling cloth covered by snow.
