Kong Xiuyun's voice slowed, and Wang Xiaoliang knew these were things that concerned her.
"I met him in his first year of college."
"I was working part-time at a restaurant near the university, and he came to apply for a job. The owner gave him a three-day trial, but he got the hang of it on his very first day. Washing dishes, serving food, wiping tables-no one had to push him. He found work to do himself."
"The first time I noticed him was because of a plate of leftovers. After the lunch rush, there was half a plate of meat left in the kitchen. He asked the Master Chef, 'Can I eat this?' The Master Chef said yes, so he took it and ate it."
"A student at Jiang University, of all places. Back then, Jiang University was something sacred and extraordinary to us. Anyone who got in was one of the chosen few. But there he was, sitting on a low stool in the kitchen, holding a plate of someone else's leftovers and eating every last bite. He didn't care at all how anyone looked at him."
"I thought to myself then, this one's different. Of course, I knew his family must be poor, so I started looking out for him a little more."
"He worked there for nearly a year, and we were already very close by the time he quit. But before he left, he'd convinced the owner to let him take all the scrap, because he paid more and offered better service than anyone else."
"Without a sound, he'd already built up a scrap-collecting business."
At this point, a little brightness entered Kong Xiuyun's voice.
"We still saw quite a lot of each other then. He came by every few days to pick things up,