"Seventy-two bucks. Genuine artificial leather. It'll definitely look good on you."
Inside an upscale clothing store.
Dressed in shabby clothes, with a faint stink clinging to him, A Yao carefully accepted the garment the owner handed him.
A vest.
A black vest.
It wasn't particularly expensive, but it was the most expensive piece of clothing he had ever bought.
Because it was a gift for the man who had saved his life.
A Yao's friends had covered Little White Tiger's clothes in black handprints.
"Where did this little beggar come from?"
"Tch, boss, you let just anyone in here? Does he look like he can afford these clothes?"
"Get him out of here."
The customers around him covered their noses, making no attempt to hide the contempt in their eyes.
A Yao pressed his lips together and silently handed over a pile of one-buck and fifty-cent notes.
He didn't want to leave that street, because this world couldn't accept him.
The contempt of ordinary people felt like ten thousand needles stabbing his chest.
Fortunately, the owner didn't give him a hard time. He wrapped up the clothes and cautioned him, "Be careful on your way. Don't let anyone snatch it."
"Thank you."
With that, he rushed out of the shop as if fleeing.
Along the way, every child he encountered had a parent holding their hand, their faces brimming with happy smiles.
It stung his sensitive heart once again.
He, too, longed for a father, even one who wasn't kind.
Without a word along the way, he returned to that rundown street. Only then did he slow his steps.
He let out a deep sigh of relief.
As though this street alone was the world he belonged in.
"Lai Litou, did you buy the meat?"
After taking care of Little