"So you do remember me," Gu Wenheng said, guessing immediately when he saw the boy's pupils constrict.
Xiao Dongzi, clutching the clothes in his hands, nodded stiffly. He still remembered the young lady who had given him some grain.
"What about your family?"
Xiao Dongzi's voice was hoarse. "Gone. They're all gone."
Uncle Hu, who had raised him, ultimately didn't survive the cold winter, collapsing for the last time in that ruined temple.
Without Uncle Hu, he couldn't even hold onto their only shelter, the ruined temple.
He didn't dare stay in the county town now, afraid that seeing people with homes and families, with relatives and friends, would only make him feel more alone.
Sitting here under the icy city wall, he could at least feel a coldness in the world that matched the cold in his heart. This was where he belonged.
