"That's great."
I made Zuzu some fried rice with the leftover rice, eggs, and green onions and smashed a cucumber for him. He ate it all in no time, "Delicious. Fei, thank you."
"Don't mention it." I said, hugging the little dog Zuzu, "I haven't thanked you yet. I heard from Ode that you want to go to Africa? To join the Peacekeeping Troops?"
"That's right. I've already applied, and I'll know the results by next spring."
"Why?"
"And you, why do you study translation?"
"To make money, to spend on my dad and mom."
Zuzu nodded, "When I was little, I saw a picture of a skinny African girl who was all skin and bones, lying on the ground, about to die, with a vulture behind her, ready to devour her."
I had also seen this picture on "Black Lens". At that time, I felt fortunate to be born in China, not in Black Africa.
The French boy, who didn't have to worry about a cushy life, said he wanted to work there, a place unavoidable even in human hell.
