On a street corner not far away, a steamed bun shop still had its lights on. Steam from the bamboo steamers fogged up the windows, and the faint scent of wheat filled the air.
He hesitated for a moment but ultimately looked away, deciding against going to the bun shop.
'I can save them for a day, but can I save them for a lifetime?'
There were hundreds, if not thousands, of refugees on these streets, and millions in all of Jizhou. Even if he spent all one hundred thousand taels, it would be a mere drop in the ocean.
'I could save them today, but what about tomorrow?'
'What about next month?'
'How could I possibly stop the torrent of this chaotic world alone?'
Yang Jing took a deep breath, calmed the turmoil within him, and continued walking home.
As he passed an old woman huddled in a corner, he glimpsed a deathly pale child cradled in her arms. Both of their lips were purple from the cold.
