Chapter 1

It's so cold... The little blind boy sat in a pile of snow, curling up as best he could. As expected, Chang'an had another heavy snowfall this year. He felt the icy sensation beneath his hands. Although he was born blind, he could hear his grandfather's hoarse, intermittent voice saying, "The snow is white, just like the poplar fluff floating in the air." Of course, the poplar fluff was also white.

Grandpa didn't make it through last year's heavy snowfall. The little blind boy didn't know whether it was day or night. The remaining warmth from Grandpa's body slowly dissipated with a cough, leaving him feeling colder than the snow that fell beside him. He didn't know how long he stayed with Grandpa; all he could see was the same darkness until someone dragged him away.

The branch that his grandfather had broken for him last year was also lost at that time, so he climbed for a long time, not caring how cold he was, and kept grabbing and touching the snow with his palms. The coldness in his hands finally disappeared. At this time, he understood that every time he grabbed snow, it would immediately turn into water in his hands and then flow back to the ground.

He couldn't hold onto anything, and he couldn't find his grandfather anymore. The little blind man couldn't remember his age, but his grandfather had always been by his side since he could remember. He made him a walking stick, taught him to speak, and took him with him to beg for a living.

The little blind boy had grown accustomed to following his grandfather around. His grandfather had a cane just like his own, and sometimes the sounds of the two tapping the ground would overlap, and his grandfather would laugh out loud. The little blind boy would imitate his grandfather's laughter and then follow him, from one street to another.

Sometimes they'd beg for a copper coin or two, and Grandpa would hold it to his lips and let him take a bite, remembering the feeling; it was something he could exchange for food. Sometimes they'd beg for some rice or water, and Grandpa would eat it first, freeing up his hands to feed him. They tried everything: hard, bitter, cold, astringent; anything that filled their stomachs would be eaten.

The little blind man felt himself trembling as he clutched a branch that a passerby had broken off for him the previous month. His palm had smoothed out the thorns on the branch, making it very comfortable to hold. He didn't want to lose his cane again, and he didn't want to crawl on the ground every time he fell.

A passing child teased him, calling him a dog. He had heard dogs barking before, and his grandfather had even been bitten by a stray dog ​​guarding its food. Although his grandfather said he was fine and wouldn't let him touch the wound, it was impossible not to hurt. His grandfather couldn't sleep for several days.

The dogs barked very loudly, and he was afraid that the heavy breathing that sounded like that of a human being might lead him to compete with humans for food. Fortunately, this year he figured out which streets had the most people, and where there were a lot of human voices, there were no stray dogs.

But even on such streets, dogs barked. He could hear them clearly, one louder and louder bark after another. Mixed in with the sounds of praise and other conversation, the little blind man couldn't quite recall what he was doing; he could only smell an alluring aroma. What had he done then? He pondered for a moment, remembering that he had been covering his stomach, which had been barking loudly. But then he could hear clearly that the dogs were feasting on the meat their owners had thrown down.

Wild dogs would compete with people for food, but as long as their owners were around, no beggar like him would go up and snatch the meat from those dogs, even though he could hear them imagining how delicious the meat in those dogs' mouths was, and how delicious those dogs looked. Those vicious, resentful curses rang in his ears.

The little blind man shook his head, unwilling to recall those voices, because the same vicious, resentful curses would sometimes be directed at him. Now he had learned to put whatever he could get directly into his mouth, swallowing anything he could chew and spitting out anything he couldn't chew until he was sure it wasn't a copper coin.

Dogs and humans will fight for food, humans and dogs will fight for food, and humans will also fight for food...

Only sleeping space was unclaimed. The little blind man thought, "In summer, the streets are all equally hot, and in winter, they are all equally cold." He scooped up a handful of snow and stuffed it into his mouth. The snow water was much colder, but he was too hungry and thirsty.

All he could see was black, and he didn't even know if he'd fallen asleep. He just felt stiff when he moved his body again, and for a moment, the snow felt so warm, it didn't feel like winter at all, so warm that he wanted to lie down and fall asleep.

It must have been daytime, and the little blind man began to hear more and more noises, all mixed together. He dragged his still stiff body to his feet, and when the sun came out and shone down, he finally felt a little warmer.

He picked up his walking stick. The snow was so deep, reaching his knees. The branches felt clogged when they touched the ground, and the usual tapping sound of the walking stick was no longer audible. The little blind man was a little dazed. He couldn't quite remember where he was. After the heavy snow, not many people were out on the streets.

He walked slowly step by step, not knowing whether the direction ahead was south, north, east or west, and he couldn't calculate when he would be able to walk out of this street and go around to the next one.

But he could only take one step at a time, listening to the slightest sounds, smelling the surrounding smells and moving towards the warm place. As for occasionally hearing children pointing at him and asking questions like "blind beggar", he was used to it. If someone handed him something, he would nod obediently to please them, and occasionally get more food or water.

But he thought, snow has its benefits. The hardest thing about winter is finding water. People on the street don't have extra bowls to give them water. If they try to get to a store, they'll be chased away by the staff at best, or beaten and scolded at worst, until they dare not go there again.

Now, he only needs to squat down and grab a handful of snow. Although some of it is icy, at least it can quench his thirst when he puts it in his mouth. He can take as much as he wants, because the snow will not melt in the next few days.

It is rare to see galloping horses on the streets on snowy days. He was trampled by a horse's hooves a few months ago. Fortunately, someone rescued him at that time, so he was not killed under the horse's hooves.

Thinking of this, the little blind man paused for a moment. Of course it hurt at that time, as if someone had stepped on his stomach or his legs. In any case, whenever he moved during that half month, he felt pain everywhere, so much so that he didn't want to move.

He was really tired and cold. It was better when Grandpa was around. No matter what, Grandpa was always there for him. Now he was all alone.

Fortunately, he had found a good place, probably a place like a school, or the doorway of a wealthy family. The sound from there was closest, so he moved closer and found a place to sit down.

It didn't matter if no one came out. There were no barking dogs or other noisy sounds. The little blind man thought that as long as he could find a place with people to sit down, he would eventually get food. At least, there were no cursing or other noises that would hurt his ears.

He also hugged his crutches tightly and sat in the snow listening to the sound of recitation inside. The teacher's voice was more obvious, and he was reading something slowly.

Gentleman... then something like... not upset? Not angry? When the little blind man wanted to continue listening, the teacher had already started reading the next sentence, which he did not understand.

He could only continue to listen. The gentleman's tone of voice was a little like his grandfather's, so he wanted to listen a little longer. He had nowhere to go anyway, and no one else was with him. He just wanted to listen to a familiar voice.

He was actually a little scared. He was afraid that he had spent a year alone and heard so many noises, curses, joyful voices, music, and sometimes the voices of ordinary people talking and children's voices.

There were so many sounds, sometimes he could hear them clearly, and sometimes there were too many and he couldn't hear them at all. At this time, he wanted to cover his ears and felt a buzzing pain in his head.

He was too scared, afraid that one day he would forget his grandfather's voice, which was the only thing left by his grandfather. The walking stick that his grandfather had broken for him was thrown away on that snowy day.

Lost on that snowy day, he felt that all his thoughts were also lost on that snowy day.

The little blind man continued to listen. Even though he didn't understand what the gentleman said at the end, he remembered the tone and forced himself to recall the voice of his grandfather. At least he had not forgotten it yet. He had not forgotten his grandfather.

He was somewhat happy now, although he was still cold and hungry. He unexpectedly remembered what his grandfather had said to him before. Although it was some clichés teaching him how to make a living, he was willing to listen. It was a pity that he could only remember these few words and could not remember anything else.

However, the little blind man couldn't sit here for too long. Someone opened the door and started cleaning the snow in front of his door, then told him to get out in a bad mood.

The little blind man said nothing. He simply grabbed his crutch and propped himself up against the ground, then slowly stood up, holding onto a branch. He repeated the same steps he had taken earlier, but walked more carefully, taking each step carefully, fearing he would fall. He was exhausted already, and he didn't want to suffer any more pain. That unbearable pain, which couldn't make him see his grandfather again, only made him want to vent. But he also knew what others said about him: a blind man—he couldn't even cry if he wanted to.

The little blind man knew it himself, because he had tried it after hearing those words, but there was no water on his face and no tears flowed from the corners of his eyes.

He was walking slowly when he heard a noise. Although the noise was very close to him, he initially thought it was a child throwing a stone. It was not until he tried to move his crutch and found that it would not touch the ground that he realized that the crutch was broken. It turned out that it was the branch in his hand that broke.