I don't know who I am. The name in my memory is a strange word, but everyone gives me a very simple collective name, Po Meng.
I don't know since when, I have been standing on this bridge somewhere, making the same pot of soup for the travelers passing by. Occasionally, I will listen to them tell their stories and write them in my notebook. When I have nothing to do, I will pick them up and look through them. Although I read the same thing almost every day, it is better than standing around waiting for someone, right?
"Excuse me... I have been walking on this bridge for a long time. Can I ask you for a bowl of soup?" A hand gently patted my shoulder. The owner of the hand was a very beautiful woman.
Haha, there is another story to write.
Thank you for your hard work on this article -3-
First published in Adventurer's Paradise aka a certain ˙ˊ
Because a certain lady is about to take the college entrance examination and have to revise her essay (Lie), this essay will be temporarily suspended for about two months (embarrassing)
Anyway, please bear with me.