Sulaiman Aisha's life should have been as quiet and steady as the stone-paved streets of the old town. He was born into an ordinary Uyghur family. His father was a tailor, and his mother sold fruit and vegetables at the market. As a child, he loved sitting beneath the grape trellis outside their home, listening to his father tell stories about “goodness” and “righteousness.” Back then, he thought kindness was a choice, a virtue, and something worth taking pride in.
As an adult, he married Anaguli, a gentle but somewhat introverted young woman. They weren't well-off, but their life was full of everyday warmth. They had a son, Reheman Wusiman. On the night the child was born, Sulaiman Aisha waited outside the delivery room, holding Anaguli's hand, his eyes brimming with hope. He vowed to raise their child to be an upright, kind, and responsible man.
But reality did not follow the path he had imagined. As the years passed, Sulaiman Aisha was gradually swept along by the world around him. In the old town, neighbors were close, and everyone had their own troubles. He was always the first to lend a hand. He helped neighbors fix pipes, deliver medicine, offer advice, and give money. Sometimes, he even gave up his own time. Little by little, he became “the big brother,” “the savior,” and “the good man” everyone talked about.
