t even looking at the boy, he even covered his sleeves and left quickly as if he was facing the plague, with disgust and fear in his eyes.
Two days passed, and no one dared to give him a piece of pancake or a mouthful of water. The boy sat alone in the corner, guarding the despair in his heart, enduring hunger and thirst. He was only a five-year-old child. He had not eaten for two days. His face was already yellow and his lips were chapped. He would be dying in the blink of an eye. At the moment of despair, a rustling sound came from not far away, but the side window of the mansion opposite was gently opened, and the chicken legs wrapped in tinfoil were thrown out from the window lattice. The boy stared intently at the chicken drumstick that exuded an alluring aroma. Then, regardless of other things, he used the last strength of his body to pounce on it, picked up the drumstick and wolfed it down. When he finished eating, he looked up and saw that the window was tightly closed, as if nothing had happened.
Maybe I was just lucky and picked up someone else’s leftover food. The boy wiped his mouth and murmured as he looked into the dark night. The next day, in the dead of night, a ball of rice fell from the window. The boy was slightly surprised. After hesitating for a moment, he stepped forward, opened the lotus leaf, and took big bites of the rice with his hands. In the next half month, every night late at night, the family would always pour food out of the window. What looked like leftovers was actually steaming hot. In this way, the boy survived on the charity of the wealthy family. The boy’s family was designated as a traitor and traitor. Even the princes and ministers did not dare to look at him when passing by Yuzhuo Street for fear of being implicated. However, that family risked the destruction of the nine clans and even prepared food for the boy every night. The boy looked indifferent on the surface, but deep down he was filled with gratitude and vowed to come back to repay them one day.
Later, his mother found him and brought the boy back to Baiyi’an, and then he fled thousands of miles with his father, and then…
…
on Yuzhuo Street, the broken fan In front of the window, long-buried past events were narrated from Zhou Jijun’s mouth. Qi Linger was stunned and her eyes were slightly red. Her master was famous all over the world and had many romantic deeds. However, Qi Linger never expected that Zhou Jijun’s childhood would be so miserable and desolate.
“If it weren’t for the charity of this family back then, how could you, Ling’er, have met Master and me?”
Zhou Jijun said softly, looking inside through the broken window. The huge house was empty, and the tables, chairs and beds were overturned on the ground. It seemed that someone had broken into it, but there wasn’t much dust there, but it had just been a few days since the person left.
At this moment, he heard the creaking sound of the door opening coming from the opposite side. Zhou Jijun turned around and saw a child in Chinese clothes hi