There was an old cabinet with peeling paint, the mottled surface revealing the original color of the wood underneath.
He reached out and pushed the door, making a soft creak.
He bent down, opened the cabinet, and took out a tin box.
The lid of the box had a blurry old painting on it, a red plum blossom whose color was long since lost to be discernible.
When the box was opened, a neatly stacked stack of banknotes appeared before my eyes.
Although the face value is not large, each one is pressed extremely flat.
Even the small bills, worth only a few cents, were folded into neat squares.
"This is all the money I have hidden away."
He stared at the box of banknotes.
This wasn't just some savings he casually mentioned; it was money he had painstakingly saved over many years.
He would buy a steamed bun every day but only eat one, and he wouldn't replace his clothes even when they were worn out.
Even the candy stall at the village entrance hasn't been visited for years.
To save this money, he practically starved himself.
He sat down and counted the stack of banknotes one by one, muttering, "Seventy, seventy-one... seventy-three... seventy-seven yuan and thirty cents."
As he read out the last number, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
Even he himself felt that this number was embarrassing.
If you want to get married, even for the simplest ceremony, this amount of money isn't enough.
"Looks like we need to think of another way."
He muttered to himself.
He slumped back onto the bed, looking utterly dejected.
He looked like a deflated balloon, utterly dejected.
He goes to and from get off work on time every day.
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