The urban village was close to the city, but cut off from its original environment.
Its residents could not fit into the city's rapid development, yet they had also lost their farmland. They had long since fallen out of step with the times, struggling at the very bottom every day.
Even the peaceful, quiet streets late at night showed signs of decay.
The blind old man emerged from the alley. Once he stopped, he sensed that the person closest to him was right beside him.
He reached out with both hands, feeling around until he finally touched the child who had kept him company for eight months.
People could not actually touch ghosts, but ghosts could affect the human brain, giving people a sense of touch. This was phantom touch, a form of hallucination.
The blind old man touched Rat, and a smile appeared on his face, but tears streamed down it.
Only one of his eyes could shed tears. The other had already lost that ability in the fire.
Rat said a few words to him, telling him to take care of himself, then knelt and knocked his forehead against the ground three times.
Those three kowtows carried his gratitude for being taken in. After his parents abandoned him, this was also the last bit of warmth Rat had felt in this world. He had no time to repay the person who had given him that warmth, and could only offer the old man three resounding kowtows in return.
"Rat, Grandpa's happy for you. You can go live a good life now."
"In eighteen years, you'll be a strapping young man again."
"Grandpa won't see you off. Have a safe journey, Rat."
The old man stroked Rat's head and waved to him. "Go on. Look ahead. Don't worry about