Small Flower

Pinching off a small pink flower, Chen Pingping carefully put it in his hair. Seeing it would fall at any moment, Fan Xian fixed the old man's hair, ensuring that the flower would stay put.

Chen Pingping laughed joyfully and gently tapped Fan Xian's hand. "After seventeen years of turmoil, you've finally come to the capital and finally grown up into a man. Your mother's wishes have been answered."

Fan Xian had always been curious about "those" years. He couldn't help but ask, "How many of you were there back then?" By that he meant: how many powerful people had followed his mother, wanting to change the world?

"Do some counting."

Fan Xian did. He smiled. "Six."

"Yes, your mother was most impressive." Chen Pingping smiled. "Looks like you're a smart one too."

"Regarding the former, Fei Jie told me when I was little."

"Well, I suppose he didn't tell you how much we miss your mother. From a certain point of view, she was our guide."