James Black hung up the phone and left the telephone booth. The way he walked over here was the way he walked back to the courtyard of that self-built rural house.
When he came out, his hands were empty.
When he went back, he had to put in effort to hide the heart-wrenching pain inside, pretending nothing happened, and bought breakfast to take back.
The person inside the house slept for as long as he stood under the big sun in the courtyard.
The young man yawned as he came out from inside the room, hungry, seeing there was food on the tabletop, he reached out for it, a bit disdainful that it was cold, but still tore off a small piece of the steamed bun to eat as he walked outside.
Mumbling to himself, "I say, Brother Strongman, could you not be so stingy, every breakfast is steamed buns and soy milk, never changes. I mean, it's fine if you're not willing to buy a mobile phone, but you won't even eat a slightly better breakfast? Then what are you making money for?"
