The night was quiet, broken only by the occasional chirp of an insect.
In the north, May was technically the start of summer, but the night air still felt like the cusp between spring and summer. A gentle evening breeze blew past, making a slight chill in the air unavoidable.
Ji Huan walked to the low shed where the homeless man stayed and crouched down. Lifting the straw mat that served as a door, she held up her oil lamp. Just as she expected, its light revealed the homeless man leaning against one of the wooden posts inside.
He was still wearing the old clothes and shoes Widow Xie had brought him as the weather began to warm. Beneath him was a tattered straw mat, with some old bedding laid to one side.
He sat there, half-upright, his head bowed, silent and still.
Ji Huan couldn't tell if he was asleep. She called out to him tentatively a few times but saw no reaction.
'He must be asleep.'
