At a street corner on Hongqiao Street stood a cheap rental apartment building. A fifteen-square-meter studio there cost just over four hundred yuan a month, and it was home to many migrant workers.
A gust of wind blew a lottery ticket off the desk by a third-floor window. Wang Yongrui panicked and rushed downstairs, searching everywhere with his head bowed.
He had only spent two yuan on it, but for someone who had spent his whole life at the bottom of society, it wasn't just about the money. It was about hope.
It happened to be lunchtime, and students were streaming out of Hongqiao Primary School. A little first-grade girl picked up the lottery ticket and asked with a smile, "Um... Uncle, are you looking for this?"
Wang Yongrui saw it and immediately smiled as he took the ticket. "Yes! Thank you so much." He thought the little girl's round, chubby face was adorable and wanted to pinch her cheek, but when he raised his hand, he noticed it was covered in dirt from digging through the bushes for his ticket. He gave an awkward smile.
Just then, a well-dressed woman walked over. She looked at the man beside her, dressed in wrinkled old clothes, with undisguised disgust. Taking her daughter by the hand, she scolded her, "Didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers? Why are you so disobedient?"
The little girl looked a little hurt. "I was just helping Uncle pick something up."
The woman led her daughter away, then glanced back at Wang Yongrui once they were some distance away. That look made him feel the deep hostility of society.
Being poor meant not only having to hang your head, but also being looked down on.
He clenched the lottery ticket in his hand, wanting to