The beggar's clothes were in tatters, his upper body against the wall, exuding a foul odor. Many wounds had already festered, making him appear at death's door. Although his body was covered with wounds and his clothes were full of holes, it was still clear that he was accustomed to a life of luxury.
His skin was very fair, his palms were not calloused, and his fingers were long and without signs of hardship.
People who toil in the countryside usually have short, thick fingers and rough skin.
He was evidently not from the countryside.
Chen Shi's gaze flickered: "Situ Tiangong, is this beggar a local from your town?"
Situ Wen stepped forward, examining carefully, and shook his head: "I don't recognize him. I haven't been back for many years, and there are many unfamiliar faces in town... Auntie An Xiu, do you recognize this man?"
