While Zheng Yiming was engrossed in his book, the little beggar he had encountered outside the Examination Hall earlier was waiting anxiously at a noodle stall.
The little beggar had clearly taken Zheng Yiming's words to heart. Told to find somewhere to eat something hot, he had really gone looking; told to find noodles, he had really sought out noodles. Of course, this was also because Zheng Yiming had known poverty himself and understood that, for five copper coins, a tasty meal would most likely mean plain noodles.
The little beggar had eaten some broken pieces of flatbread and drunk some water earlier, which had restored a little strength. Though he was still shivering, he could now look for food himself. He had searched many places in the city before finally finding a noodle stall willing to make him a bowl.
There were no other customers at the stall just then, but the little beggar still did not dare sit at a table. His eyes remained fixed on the steaming pot on the food cart.
The stall owner's thinking was simple enough. He had only enough toppings left for one bowl of noodles. Once he finished this order, he could pack up and go home, so he did not care whether his customer was a beggar.
"Here we are! Noodles are ready!"
The stall owner lifted the noodles out and was about to put them into a bowl when the little beggar hastily spoke.
"Wait!"
"Hm?"
The stall owner, a middle-aged man, looked at the little beggar in puzzlement. He had collected payment beforehand when making noodles for a beggar, so he was not worried about being cheated out of a meal. What was the boy calling out for?
The little beggar braced himself against the wall beside the street