The water in the crock was almost gone, so Ji Huan took the noodle bowl to feed him.
The noodle sheets were rolled very thin, perfect for someone weak from prolonged hunger. And they were even made from white flour.
Ji Huan didn't know what to make of Widow Xie. She'd grumbled for days when her own children had one meal of white flour, yet she didn't seem to mind at all giving it to a boy who was practically a stranger.
But Widow Xie couldn't be bothered with things like white or dark flour right now!
"You're going to raise him? Ji Huan, I'm telling you, don't be a fool!" Widow Xie said, her voice filled with urgency.
"Look at your own situation! Do you think raising a child is easy? There are so many people in this village, so why has no one else gotten involved? If you take this on, they won't say a single word of praise. But if something goes wrong, oh, they'll have plenty to say then. You'll be doing all the work for none of the credit!"
