The group ambled down the road, none of them in particularly high spirits except Wang Yan.
Fang Hui and Lin Jiamo's eyes were especially red.
"Come on, cheer up. Don't look so down."
"But they're so pitiful," Fang Hui choked out.
Lin Jiamo started crying beside her. "I know. They're so pitiful, and some of them are so young."
Zhao Ye said nothing, but he clearly wasn't doing much better. His eyes were red, too.
"Let me say this: they're not pitiful, and they don't need your pity."
"What they need is respect, not your overflowing compassion and tears."
"You cry your eyes out now, then go home, sleep, and get on with your lives tomorrow?"
Wang Yan shook his head. "What's the point?"
"No, we just..." Lin Jiamo was quick to speak, and she started to argue without thinking.
But as soon as the words left her mouth, she understood. Wang Yan was right. That was exactly what she would do.
"You wouldn't be able to get them out of your mind, would you?"
"So don't dwell on things that won't help. Just keep them in your heart. If you're able to help someday, lend them a hand. If you can't, there's nothing wrong with wishing them well."
The elderly people and children at the welfare home had endured a lifetime of disdain and seen more than their share of life's highs and lows.
The only thing that truly hurt them was the pity buried deep in people's eyes when they looked at them.
The three nodded. They knew Wang Yan was right, but they still couldn't feel any happier.
"Come on, don't dwell on it. How about we go for a walk around Beihai Park?"
With that, Wang Yan led the way. The others followed quietly behind him.