Zhang sighed as he finished speaking and walked toward the courtyard with his smoking pipe in his mouth.
Bands of yellow and blue smoke billowed from his nostrils, drifting on the wind to Wang Chen's face.
It was somewhat choking and also a bit irritating to the eyes.
But at that moment, Wang Chen didn't dodge; he seemed utterly dejected, as if he was isolated from this world.
In his mind, besides the question Zhang had asked, there were also those two blurry yet somewhat familiar figures deep in his memories.
Dad, Mom!
These were two titles that felt inherently familiar to him, yet to Wang Chen, they were incredibly distant.
The villagers were poor, but the parents of his friends would still find ways to get their children some treats or fun things.
Even if it was just eating meat once a month, that could still bring smiles to the children's faces, blooming like flowers.
However, since he started to remember, it seemed that he had never enjoyed such warmth.
