The evening sky was blanketed with crimson clouds.
Little Milk Tea barked incessantly outside the yard.
Meng Shuyan ran outside and saw a filthy man lying outside the courtyard, startling him. "Mom, there's a beggar passed out here!" he shouted into the house.
Poor guy. This beggar looks like a wounded fawn.
What? That little brat? This is Tian Sangsang's house? Damn it!
Zhao Chun struggled to reach up and ruffle his hair, then touched his face. They actually called him a beggar? Damn it to hell! Alright, fine, maybe he hadn't washed his face for three days. Or taken a bath. And, fine, maybe he was starting to attract fleas. Ughhhh… nausea rising… mustn't puke.
"Don't look." His voice came out. It was hoarse, raspy like an old man's, his throat parched beyond belief.
"Uncle, are you starving? We have some food at home." The child's big, dark eyes looked at him, brimming with purity and kindness.
