Two months later, one day.
Lin Bai was still weaving through the crowd with his flashy footwork and movements, dodging the giant feet stomping down from above again and again.
Seeing that the little grass growing between the surrounding bluestone slabs had long since been trampled into mulch, while Lin Bai was still flourishing, Lin Bai felt rather smug.
He might not have been the most powerful person in this world, but he was actually the flashiest blade of grass.
But good times never lasted. That day, a beggar came walking over to Lin Bai.
He sat in the corner one step away from Lin Bai, placed a broken bowl on the ground, and began his day's begging.
Yet after begging all morning, he had not received a single coin from anyone—not even a steamed bun.
"Ah, life is truly too difficult."
The beggar let out a helpless sigh, picked up his broken bowl, and prepared to leave.
But just as he picked up the bowl, he suddenly spotted a lush green blade of grass growing from the crack in the bluestone not far away.
His eyes lit up. Holding the broken bowl in one hand, he reached out with the other.
"Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing? What are you doing!"
Lin Bai cried out wide-eyed, his face filled with shock.
But no matter how Lin Bai shouted, the beggar could not hear him.
The beggar reached out and grabbed Lin Bai's blade of grass, pinched it, and yanked hard, pulling it out of the crack. He tossed it into his mouth, chewed twice, and swallowed it.
During the two months he had spent as a blade of grass,
Lin Bai had imagined countless ways he might die. Perhaps he would be trampled to death by the giant