I went in and came out again. The sky was dark and it was bright again.
The Old Priest took a deep breath. He tried to suppress the sorrow in his heart and the tears in his eyes. He muttered to himself, "The boss and the rest must be busy. That's why they can't come pick me up. That's right. That must be it. Boss said that he values me the most out of all the employees under him."
The Old Priest walked out. He stood by the roadside and was ready to take a taxi back to the bookstore. A van drove past him. The Old Priest waved his hand out of habit. He was old and had traveled extensively for most of his life. It was a habit to block a passing ox-cart or a four-wheeled car for a lift.
Perhaps young people were too embarrassed to do so. However, the older generation always helped one another. There were many kind-hearted people in this society. Also, it was not easy to take a taxi here.
