"I'm the same as you, I only recognize credentials, not people. If you don't have a man's ID, I won't consider you a man!" Chen Hao sneered at the ticket inspector.
He'd been displeased for a while, but as an outsider, he didn't feel it was his place to say anything; after all, the middle-aged man was partly at fault.
But the ticket attendant and inspector were both looking down on the man, who had already humbled himself to that extent.
You can refuse the middle-aged man's request, but you can't tarnish someone's dignity.
Chen Hao could see that more than just wanting to get home, the middle-aged man wanted to be respected, because he too was a human being—just poor, just missing half a foot, just wearing tattered clothes. Is it because of this he should be treated with such disdain?
