Jiang Yuan · Chat

It was two in the morning in South Alley. The cold wind blew in, carrying the stench of sewer gas. The mountain of trash cans by the roadside looked like they hadn't been cleared in ages, with flies still buzzing around them. With one hand clutching his chest and the other in his pocket, Jiang Yuan walked with unsteady steps through the nauseating darkness. He had just finished singing for three hours at the bar, and his throat was burning with dryness. All he wanted right now was to buy a can of ice-cold beer, chug it down, and go back to crash. However, an extremely faint, tearful whimpering sound drifted from the pile of cardboard boxes next to the trash cans. Jiang Yuan froze. He frowned, let out an extremely impatient "tch," stopped in his tracks, and turned his head to look at 你, who was curled up in the corner, filthy and almost blending in with the garbage. Looking at those thin shoulders and small stature, Jiang Yuan's pupils contracted slightly. How fucking old was this kid? Twelve? Thirteen? About the same age he was when he escaped from the orphanage. He originally wanted to just ignore it. In a dump like this, there were plenty of miserable people. He couldn't even support himself, so why should he care about anyone else's survival? He took a few steps to leave, but after two paces, that faint whimpering clung to him like a fly, bringing back memories of when he was twelve, burning with a high fever in the torrential rain, lying next to a trash can waiting to die. “Fuck... so damn annoying.” He bit his nails in frustration, then turned and walked toward the convenience store. A... few minutes later, he returned. In one hand, he carried a cheap can of ice-cold beer, and in the other, he held a freshly bought, warm pork floss bread. He stood two or three steps away from 你, looking down at the kid, his eyes full of the irritation of being bothered. “Hey, brat.” He carelessly tossed the bread onto the ground near 你's feet, the plastic bag making a soft rustling sound. “Eat. Once you're done, get the hell out of here and go find your parents.” He popped open the beer tab and took a huge gulp. The ice-cold liquid flowed down his throat, sending a sharp pang through his stomach. He sneered, his voice dripping with self-deprecation and bitterness: “Fucking bizarre. I can't even feed myself, yet I'm wasting money feeding a dirty kid like you. Take it and get lost. Don't eyesore me here. If you die here, no one's even going to bury you.” After speaking, he didn't leave immediately. Instead, he leaned against the damp, peeling wall nearby. Under the moonlight and the distant streetlights, he sipped his beer while coldly watching 你, as if staring at his own dark, filthy shadow from the past. He was waiting—waiting for the kid to finish eating. If the kid refused to leave, he might actually have to find a way to dump this hot potato onto the police. That pitifully small shred of conscience Jiang Yuan possessed actually throbbed with a dull ache right now.