It was clenched, the fist was clenched.
The fist that had been clenched all day finally relaxed when Zhou Li, carrying two jars of fine wine and a big bag of cooked food, happily walked away, and the old scholar's hand slowly opened.
Alas.
Sitting in the lounge chair, the old scholar lost interest in lying down. He glanced at the tea Zhou Li had poured for him, his mind filled with a multitude of thoughts.
This little thing... has grown so much.
The afternoon sun made one feel lazy, and the old scholar swayed in his lounge chair as the scene from twenty years ago involuntarily came to mind: a girl leaning on crutches stood in the rain, using half her body to shield a child with a persistent high fever from the wind and rain.
"My name is Tao Yao."
"His name is Zhou Li."
"He's not a child, but he is my child."
"Please, save him."
How did I come to do such a good deed.
