Qiao Jing frowned slightly and took a quick glance at the two children before asking with puzzlement in her voice.
"Your home? Where is your home?"
No matter how she looked at them, they didn't seem like children who had a home. If they did, their parents wouldn't let them end up like this.
Both of them had clothes riddled with holes and were filthy from head to toe. Their hair was also messy, and they were picking up bottles, an obvious sign of being homeless kids.
The little boy, feeling inferior, hung his head low, staring at his toes and nervously wringing his hands as he spoke.
"Our home is... under South Bridge..."
He and his sister had been homeless for as long as they could remember, usually sleeping in the dark space under South Bridge.
In Qiao Jing's eyes, a hint of helplessness and sympathy appeared. She was about to reach out and gently touch the boy's head when he dodged away.
The young boy covered his head with his hands and apologized.
