Yu Xiaolian looked at the soaking wet boy, and the more she looked, the more familiar he seemed. This boy was about eight or nine years old. Logically, she shouldn't know him, but he looked very much like someone.
"Whose family are you from?" Yu Xiaolian asked the boy.
"My father is Zhao Kuo, but I've never met him. My mother said my father died many years ago.
The other side of the carriage is my home!" Zhao Xiaobao pointed with his dirty hand, still streaked with black mud, directly opposite the Yu Family.
Yu Xiaolian was startled.
Did Zhao Kuo not have only one daughter, Zhao Chunyu? When did he get a son? Could this child be a posthumous child?
"Is your mother Mrs. Feng?"
"Yes, sister, do you know my mother?" Zhao Ping's eyes revealed a hint of surprise.
Since when did his mother know such a wealthy sister? Just the carriage seemed unreachable in a lifetime!
"Yes, I know her!" Yu Xiaolian nodded, "Is your mother at home?"
