The sun, scorching even at ten in the morning, made sweat trickle down Sun Joon Ho's eyelashes as he blinked and continued pushing his bicycle toward the residential area.
It was a women's bike, bright red, with a basket containing tomatoes, cucumbers, okra, and his most disliked bitter gourd. On the bottom, there were fresh chicken wings and pork ribs. The seat was low, and Sun Joon Ho found it tiring to ride, so he pushed it all the way.
At the entrance of the residential area stood a Sophora tree about ten meters tall. A fortnight ago, it was in full bloom, resembling a pink fan, but now most of its flowers had fallen. However, the leaves remained lush green. A few old men playing cards were gathered underneath, exuding the scent of dry tobacco carried by the southern wind, both fragrant and pungent.
As he passed by, Mr. Woo specifically called out to him, "Little Joon Ho, buying groceries for your mom?"
