Chapter 1 (1/2)

Chapter 1: A Single Rancid Mantou

A temple

A dilapidated temple

A dilapidated ten of worshi+ppers

The lighting in the temple was heavy and hazy, its interior completely wrecked The body of the Buddha statue in the center was coh it still looked dignified A dilapidated temple like this couldn’t shi+eld from the wind or rain, but destitute people frequently used it as a place to hide

There was no fire burning within the temple, so it was a bit chilly

On the side, a few people dressed in rags who rese the warmest, driest places for themselves As for me, I used my sleeve to wipe my face and spat once

I scanned each corner of the area while undoingin the forest in front of the teo to the bathroo in the dirt…

It was risky doing so this ti robe I earing didn’t fit my body at all I knew this outfit reen clothes were even stolen off a dead body

I didn’t know my name

An old beggar at the temple said I was delivered here by my mother on a windy, snowy day She was a woman with a teardrop birthmark at the corner of her eye, a peerless youth whose beauty was unlike a ot to this point, he’d look at me with a turbid eye and shake his head hopelessly And then I knew he’d say, you’re not even equal to one-tenth of your mother’s looks

Pah!

This old beggar was already at death’s door, but still so lecherous

Though I say this, he was er struck, he never forgot to leave a mouthful of soup for me

“During the chaotic years of war, soldiers mutinied and troops rebelled Fa corpses were displayed” These were the last words the old ht they were the s he ever said, because I couldn’t understand a thing

But as a little beggar, I didn’t need things like inner s and polished conduct No matter how many words I learned, it wouldn’t find me food For me to live on this crappy piece of land for five years without starving to death was nothing short of a miracle

I once had a major illness whose fever lance, I appeared to be seven or eight like a child, but I don’t think I was only that old, because I understood a lot of things Maybe I just didn’t grow up enough

Up until he died, the old beggar firs He said back then the teood clothes as if I was the child of a rich family He told me I had a mother, and she’d definitely come back to pick me up

But, none of what he said toimpression… …

This old beggar used to be a storyteller, so who knew if all the things he used to say were just wild tales This was a place where a man-eat- to do was to figure out how to keep living

In the present, reality had the only person as good to me in the temple dead My future prospects were bleak, but luckily the old beggar left me some food before he passed away

My tedious, long sleeves were covered in dust froernails After digging through thethe remnants of half a mantou[1] This year, there was very little food There were even people willing to eat white clay[2], so stealing, hiding, looting were all co this could one keep living in these turbulent times

Furtively, I used the span of a few seconds to open the oil-paper package and took a bite of the old mantou inside I held that bite in my mouth, reluctant to s My hand trembled as I rewrapped the food and inhaled its scent, then reverently, carefully, put it back in the hole Iround, spreading out ather more dirt to bury the mantou I used the chance to stuff my mouth hite clay as well

…chewing a bit, I couldn’t help but knit ood, but at least it filled my stomach

“You dirty rascal, what are you eating here? You didn’t even pay respect to your elders”

Startled, I grasped at the dirt like a dog paddling in water, wanting to cover all traces of my recent excavation

“Looks like that old beggar ood food” Suddenly, someone launched a surprise attack, and a foot kicked my back My body burned fro in vain to suppress my tears It made me choke before I had time to s, and I spat out the pieces of mantou mixed with mud

That white-colored clay lutinous pieces of mantou

What a waste