The cold wind whipped up the snow and shaved my face, and my fingertips trembled in the ice. The original owner's distant relatives who came to seek refuge with Yi Zhonghai froze to death at the entrance of the alley before they could be found. As soon as I cleared my memory, I realized that there was a large supermarket in my mind - the shelves were full of eight-treasure porridge, but I couldn't reach out and asked for money. My pocket was cleaner than my face. I lay on the ice and panted, trying to figure out how to get the first penny.
