Chapter 1: The Slums

The evening glow faded, and night fell.

On the not‑exactly tidy street, only a few streetlights emitted a dim yellow glow.

Occasional passersby hurried along, as if fearing that slowing down would bring danger.

Creak—creak.

An old woman selling Roasted Sweet Potato pushed an aged tricycle into a side alley.

The alley was dark, but faint light seeped through the cracks of the mud‑clay houses on either side, allowing the ground to be seen faintly.

Yet in the unseen corners, shadows seemed to lurk.

The old woman's gaunt hands gripped the handlebars tightly, forcing herself to move forward calmly.

After walking a great distance, the sensation of a burden on her back disappeared, and she finally exhaled a sigh of relief.

Yet after only a few steps, two figures blocked her path.

"Hey, old woman, hand over all the money you have."

The speaker was a young man, thin from chronic malnutrition, pale‑skinned, but with a fierce look in his eyes.

"I—I have no money."

The old woman lifted her head, fear flashing in her eyes, and whispered tremblingly.

"No money? You've been selling Roasted Sweet Potato all day and still have no money?"

The young man sneered.

"Enough chatter, hand over the money now!"

The youth on the right growled lowly as well.

After speaking, he glanced around.

"I really have no money. My grandson has a high fever; all the money went to buying medicine for him, and after two days he's still not any better..."

The old woman spoke, and tears fell.

Her grandson is about the same age as the two youths before her.

The two rely on each other for survival, barely making a living by selling Roasted Sweet Potato.

But a couple of days ago, when the weather turned cold, the grandson developed a high fever, and treating him exhausted all their savings.

She does have a little money now, but it's lifesaving money.

"Shut up!"

The youth on the right shouted angrily, pulling a small knife from his right pocket, "Hand over the money, hear me!"

The old woman, frightened, stepped back half a pace, silent.

The knife‑wielding youth cursed, his gaze turning to the back of the tricycle.

Some sweet potatoes lay there.

On the bucket were still roasted ones, emitting an alluring aroma.

The two exchanged a glance and nodded.

Raw sweet potatoes are worth something, and the cooked ones can stave off hunger.

So the two hurried to the back, took out a bag, and stuffed the sweet potatoes into it.

"No, don't!"

The old woman turned pale with shock, instinctively moving forward to intervene.

"Get out!"

She was shoved hard, fell back two steps, and crashed to the ground with a painful cry.

"Please, don't—I'm begging you, don't take everything, leave us some."

She pleaded.

The two youths ignored her, quickly taking all the sweet potatoes, then vanished into the shadows.

"What two little brutes!"

Low murmurs came from the houses on both sides.

"One trouble less than one more; these people have knives in their hands."

"Sigh, this world..."

The voices faded quickly, and the surroundings returned to calm.

After a long while, the old woman got up from the ground, hands bracing the tricycle, and looked to the back.

Sure enough, not a single sweet potato remained.

She wiped away her tears and kept pushing the tricycle forward.

After walking for a while, she stopped in front of a mud‑clay house.

Candlelight glowed inside. "Is it Jiang Nainai?"

A woman in her thirties opened the door from within.

The old woman's expression tightened instantly; she glanced inside and asked, "Xiao Cheng, him?"

"The fever has subsided a lot, but he's still not awake."

A smile flickered on the woman's face.

She lives next door; while Jiang Nainai was out for a few hours, she was asked to look after Jiang Cheng.

She wouldn't refuse such a small favor.

And it doesn't conflict with doing needlework.

"Really, is it true?"

Jiang Nainai's voice trembled as she rushed into the room, went to the bedside, reached out to touch the young man's forehead on the bed, then touched her own, her pupils dilating.

Immediately after, she tried a few more times, and after confirming it was correct, finally let out a breath.

"Chen Sao, thank you, thank you, if it weren't for you…"

The woman quickly cut her off, smiling, "Jiang Nainai, this has nothing to do with me; Jiang Cheng's destiny is his own, and also your care."

"No, no, no…"

The old woman clutched the woman's hand tightly; she was so excited that even what happened on the way back was thrown far into the clouds.

……

In the haze, Jiang Cheng heard someone calling his name.

He felt a little strange.

He must be on the subway, right?

Could a colleague have recognized him? Yet the voices—one rather hoarse, the other youthful—were both unfamiliar.

Curiosity made him snap his eyes open.

What met his gaze was a roof made of sheet metal.

"Awake! Awake!"

The voice beside his ear grew even more excited.

"Xiao Cheng, you finally woke up; Grandma was about to worry herself to death."

Jiang Nainai's eyes filled with hot tears.

"It's good you're awake, it's good you're awake."

The young woman was also moved, her eyes reddening.

Jiang Cheng froze, turned his head, and stared at the old woman before him, his pupils widening sharply.

"Grandma?!!"

His mouth opened wide.

He couldn't believe it.

When he was young, his parents went to the city for work, leaving him with Grandma in the countryside.

The countryside conditions weren't good; a meat meal was a rare sight.

Grandma never ate the good food she had, always giving it to him; in the hot summer without a fan, she would fan herself by hand until he fell asleep, then she would finally rest.

The most vivid memory was when she was bitten by a poisonous snake while searching for river clams to improve his meals; fortunately the venom was weak and she was taken to a clinic in time, saving her life.

Time was ruthless; when he entered high school and the college entrance exam approached, Grandma passed away. The family, fearing it would affect his preparation, only told him after the exam ended.

When he learned the news, he nearly collapsed, and even after his exam scores came out—allowing him to enroll in a key provincial university—he wasn't very happy.

Later, after entering society and becoming a workhorse, he increasingly felt that his childhood was the happiest time.

But back then he neither knew how to cherish it nor behaved; he often caused trouble and angered Grandma. When he grew up, earned money, and could repay her, she was already gone.

But now…

He looked at the kind old person before him, his mind a blank.

Could it be that he's still dreaming?

The two people at the bedside were both stunned by Jiang Cheng's exaggerated reaction.

But seeing Jiang Cheng awake, the heavy stone in their hearts also fell.

Jiang Nainai laughed, "My good grandson, you finally woke up. Do you know that these past two days I was worried to death, wishing I could trade my life for yours."

"Jiang Nainai, don't talk nonsense," the young woman beside her interrupted, then turned to Jiang Cheng, asking, "Xiao Cheng, how do you feel? Any discomfort?"

"I…"

Jiang Cheng still couldn't make sense of the situation before him, until a flood of memories surged into his mind.

(End of chapter)