That year, there was a little beggar in the west of Xiuling City. He was a little beggar who couldn't speak. People in the city called him the mute beggar. From time to time, people passing by would give him two steamed buns or a few copper coins.
Yan Rui never left the small thatched cottage next to Jianwu Villa in the west of the city. Later, because it was too simple and rotten grass branches fell from the roof from time to time, he simply moved to Jianwu Villa. It took a full half month to move the corpses in the village to the outside of the city and bury them together. From then on, he lived in the empty Jianwu Villa. I often think of my grandmother's kind face and the sweet-scented osmanthus cake she made, as well as the friendship between me and that person in the past. Every time I feel deep in love, I can't help but sigh. I will never eat my grandmother's sweet-scented osmanthus cake again in this life, and I will never recognize that person as my big brother again...
At that time, Yan Rui was ten years old.