>When I was seven years old, I met him at the age of five in a damp corner of the orphanage.
>He was shivering like a baby bird whose wings were wetted by the rain.
>I wiped the mud off his face and stuffed the last half of the hard bun into his mouth.
>"From now on, I will protect you." I said.
>He stretched out his little finger and hooked mine, his eyes bright astonishingly: "Pull the hook!"
>Later, he was picked up by the adoption car, and the silver lock plate left a cold mark on my palm.
>Twenty years later, when I was on the verge of bankruptcy, mysterious funds were quietly injected into my company account.
>The dim light of the computer screen reflected my tired face, and a line of words suddenly jumped out:
>"Xiaohan, it's time to pay back the interest on the steamed buns you owe me."
