Yang Lin nodded, her dark eyes undisturbed.
The old man sighed, then handed a bun to Yang Lin, "It seems he didn't drink too much today. Ah... it'll be better once you're grown up."
Yang Lin shook her head. She didn't take the bun.
Nor did she speak.
She simply took out the keys to her home, and quietly went to open the door.
She had grown numb to that phrase. How big did she have to get before she was considered grown up?
Since she was five, she had been looking forward to growing up.
Now at eighteen, was she grown up?
She didn't know.
As soon as she opened the door, she was greeted by the blaring sound of the television, with smoke swirling in the cramped hallway.
A middle-aged man who hadn't bathed for days was sitting on the sofa, with fried chicken and some cans on the table, and chicken bones littering the floor next to the old couch.
He must have won some money.
