Colorful years

Although Zhang Ying was four years older than Zhang Cong, he was a descendant of the first wife's family. Over the course of more than a hundred years, the first wife's family had far outnumbered the second wife's family due to early marriage and childbirth. As a result, by this generation, Zhang Cong was actually two generations ahead of Zhang Ying.

Following the Zhang family's ancestral rules of seniority, whenever Zhang Ying was in public, even if she was unwilling, she could only respectfully address Zhang Cong as "Grandpa".

However, when they were alone together, they did not adhere to such formalities and addressed each other by their first names.

They met while gathering firewood at Shadao Bay that day. They had a competition, each collecting a full load of dry firewood, piling it up, and carefully binding it into bundles. Then, shouldering their heavy loads, they trudged slowly down the mountain towards their home.

Unexpectedly, fate intervened. Midway through the journey, Zhang Ying suddenly slipped and fell heavily to the ground. The fall was severe! It injured his fragile ankle joint, and an excruciating pain shot through him instantly.

Poor Zhang Ying became a cripple in the blink of an eye, making it extremely difficult for him to even walk normally, let alone continue carrying that heavy load of firewood home.

Seeing this, Zhang Cong hurriedly put down the load on his shoulder and quickly turned back to Zhang Ying's side. His face was full of worry as he anxiously asked, "What happened? Is your injury serious?"

Zhang Yingqiang endured the pain and gritted his teeth to reply, "Grandpa Cong, don't worry, I'm fine. It's just that my ankle is badly injured. Although I can still manage to walk a few steps, I'm afraid I won't be able to carry this load of firewood home." His words revealed his deep disappointment and frustration.

"My dear grandson, don't rush. Just walk slowly. Grandpa will help you carry this load of firewood home." Zhang Cong gently patted Zhang Ying's thin shoulder with a loving expression, comforting him with a soft and caring tone.

Zhang Ying looked up at Zhang Cong, her eyes full of hesitation and difficulty: "But Grandpa, you also have firewood to carry, how can you take care of mine?"

Zhang Cong laughed heartily, patted Zhang Ying's head, and said, "Silly child, I'm your grandpa! How can I, as your grandpa, sit idly by when my grandson is in trouble? Don't worry about the rest, just leave it to grandpa. You just need to carefully move forward!"

Before he finished speaking, Zhang Cong deftly picked up Zhang Ying's load of firewood and dashed down the mountain like the wind. He skillfully employed a unique, stair-step, back-and-forth carrying method—first, he would quickly carry one load of firewood to a spot about two miles ahead and place it down, then immediately turn back up the mountain without hesitation to carry another load of firewood.

The mountain path was rugged and overgrown with weeds, and as dusk approached, the mountain breeze carried a chill. Zhang Cong's thin shoulders looked particularly strained under the heavy load. Every step felt like walking on cotton, swaying precariously, but he still gritted his teeth and persevered.

Sweat slid down his forehead, dripping onto the dry ground, where it was instantly absorbed by the soil without leaving a trace.

The first trip went relatively smoothly; although Zhang Cong felt exhausted, he could still persevere. However, when he picked up the second load of firewood, the situation changed. The heavy firewood made it hard for him to breathe, and every step felt like walking on knife points, causing unbearable pain. His face turned pale, and large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. But he didn't give up; he gritted his teeth and continued to move forward step by step.

As time went by, Zhang Cong's strength gradually gave out. His legs began to tremble, and his breathing became rapid. He felt as if his heart was about to leap out of his chest, each beat accompanied by intense pain.

But he knew very well that he absolutely could not stop, because at this very moment, Zhang Ying was standing at the foot of the mountain, waiting for him with great anticipation.

And so, time ticked by, and Zhang Cong gritted his teeth, fighting off exhaustion with all his might. On that long and arduous journey, he didn't know how many internal struggles and physical challenges he had endured, but he never gave up.

Finally, perseverance paid off. After many arduous attempts, Zhang Cong successfully carried the second load of firewood steadily to the foot of the mountain.

He was already panting heavily, his breath coming in ragged gasps like a bellows. His legs were as limp as noodles, completely powerless, and he could no longer support his weight, collapsing to his knees with a thud.

Large beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and cheeks. He looked as if he had just been pulled out of the water, his whole body was soaking wet, and his clothes clung tightly to his skin, making him extremely uncomfortable.

However, just as he was about to take a short rest, his gaze inadvertently caught sight of Zhang Ying's limping figure slowly walking forward not far ahead.