Nezha was startled and asked, "Old man, your grandson?"
The old noodle-seller sadly lowered his eyelids, "Last summer, my grandson went to the private school and didn't come back the same day. I went out looking for him, and the teacher at the school said he hadn't come at all that day. We couldn't find him anywhere and reported it to the authorities. Two days later, the official in charge sent back a message, saying he had been swept away by the waves while swimming in the sea.
Oh, my dear God, my poor grandson choked on water when he was little while playing by the sea. Since then, he has been too scared to even bathe in a basin, how could he possibly go swimming in the sea alone?"
Nezha bowed his head, looking at the fragmented noodle soup in his bowl, dotted with specks of oil and four pieces of chopped green onions, swaying gently.
Lu Zhu'er was carefully watching Nezha's face, noticing that his expression was growing colder.
