The first rays of the morning sun shone on the barren and dry land.
In the dark room, a thin and frail-looking figure was trying hard to stand up. She raised her withered hands and covered the skinny boy, who was fast asleep, with a tattered blanket.
She tiptoed out the door and walked to the kitchen.
Looking at the few grains of rice in the rice jar, Xiaoguo was in a dilemma. After spending all the money she had left on her mother-in-law's funeral, she was now truly at her wits' end.
She divided the rice into three portions and placed one portion into the pot. Although it was a small amount, it was enough for a meal.
Sitting on the stool, Xiaoguo lit the fire and looked at the raging flames. Her heart was filled with sorrow.
Her eyes glanced towards the only brick by the stove that was a different color. She hesitated for a moment, but eventually, she withdrew her hand.
