The dignity of a bowl of porridge
I have the skills, but my stomach is still empty.
After finishing the mending, the hunger that had been temporarily suppressed once again engulfed Ling Xiuqing like a fierce tide. Her vision went black, and she was so weak that she almost didn't have the strength to even lift her arms.
She knew that she had to find food immediately, otherwise even if a great immortal came down to earth, he would not be able to save this body that was about to starve to death.
But she had no money, what could she use to exchange for food?
Her eyes fell on the piece of embroidered cloth in her hand that had been restored to perfection.
This is her only "work" at present.
Ling Xiuqing gritted her teeth and used her last bit of strength to support herself against the wall and stand up. Every movement felt like her bones were about to fall apart. She carefully folded the embroidery cloth, tucked it into her arms, and then stumbled out of the ruined temple.
It was a bitterly cold winter morning.
The streets were deserted, save for the occasional beggar, dressed in rags like her, huddled in a corner, shivering. When they saw her emerge, they gave her a blank glance before lowering their heads again. Here, everyone was struggling for their own survival, and no one spared a second glance.
Ah Xiu's memory told her that two blocks to the east, there was a porridge stall run by Mr. Wang, a kind man in the south of the city. However, the stall only served porridge for one hour a day. If you went too late, you would only be able to drink the clear soup at the bottom of the pot.
She quickened her pace, almost half walking and half running towards the porridge stall.
When she arrived, a long line had formed in front of the porridge stall. Beggars and refugees in tattered clothes, each holding a broken bowl, stared eagerly at the steaming pot in front of them.
The rich aroma of rice porridge wafts in the cold air. For a hungry person, this is undoubtedly the ultimate temptation in the world.
Ling Xiuqing also wanted to join the queue, but when she looked down, she found that she had nothing in her hands, not even a decent bowl.
Just as she was feeling worried, a waiter nearby noticed her. Seeing that she was a stranger and didn't have a bowl, he waved his hand impatiently: "Go away! Don't stand here without a bowl, you're blocking the people behind you!"
Ling Xiuqing had never been scolded like this in her past life, and her face turned pale. But she quickly suppressed her emotions. Now she was no longer the eldest daughter of the Ling family, but just an orphan named Ah Xiu who couldn't even afford to eat.
Dignity is something you need to consider after you have filled your stomach.
She did not leave, but walked to an open space next to the porridge stall, where some small vendors sold needles, thread, low-quality tobacco and other things.
She took a deep breath, took out the embroidery cloth from her arms, and spread it neatly on the ground in front of her.
Then she just knelt behind the cloth and said nothing more.
Her behavior seemed somewhat out of place in this noisy and numb environment.
An old man selling tobacco glanced at her and sneered, "Little girl, are you so hungry that you've lost your mind? You think you can sell a piece of rag for money?"
Several people who were queuing for porridge nearby also cast curious and contemptuous glances at him.
Ling Xiuqing turned a deaf ear to all this. She simply sat there quietly, like a weed stubbornly growing in the cold wind. She believed that someone who knew what she was worth would eventually appear.
As time passed, the line for porridge became shorter and shorter.
Finally, a well-dressed man who looked like a steward and wore a jade ring on his finger came out of the porridge stall. He seemed to want to take a look around, and his eyes inadvertently swept over Ah Xiu, who was kneeling on the ground, and the piece of cloth in front of her.
At first, he didn't pay much attention to it. But when he saw the cloth clearly, his steps suddenly stopped.
He walked quickly to Ah Xiu, squatted down, picked up a corner of the cloth in disbelief, and looked at it carefully.
"Huh?" he exclaimed.
The material of this cloth was ordinary, but it felt incredibly smooth. Especially the center of the cloth. He rubbed it repeatedly with his fingers, but couldn't feel any seams or stitches! This... this didn't look like it had been mended. It looked like the cloth had always been like this!
"Did you mend this cloth?" The steward raised his head and looked sharply at the little girl in front of him who was so thin that she seemed like she could be blown down by a gust of wind.
Ling Xiuqing finally raised her head. Although her face was pale, her eyes were unusually calm: "Yes."
In one word, neither humble nor arrogant.
The steward's surprise deepened. He was in charge of purchasing and repairs for Mr. Wang's residence, so he had seen a bit of the world. Even the best embroiderer in the residence could never produce such a "seamless" mending!
How could this be called mending? This was clearly a magical technique to bring the dead back to life!
He instantly had an idea in his mind.
"Your craftsmanship is quite good." He stood up, his tone full of condescending admiration, "Name your price. I'll buy this cloth."
Ling Xiuqing shook her head slowly.
The manager was stunned: "Why? Do you think the money is too little?"
"I'm not selling cloth." Ling Xiuqing looked at him, her voice weak but clear. "I'm only trading for a bowl of porridge, and an old bowl that I can use every day."
It wasn't money she wanted. Money in a place like this would only bring her trouble.
What she wants is the guarantee of survival.
The steward was completely stunned. He hadn't expected someone with such incredible skills to ask for something so simple. He took a deep look at the orphan girl, sensing she was definitely something special.
"Okay!" He made a quick decision and shouted to the waiter behind him, "Go, pour a bowl of the thickest porridge and get a new bowl!"
Soon, a bowl of steaming white porridge with plump rice grains and a clean ceramic bowl were brought to Ling Xiuqing.
Everyone around was stunned. They couldn't understand why a piece of rag could earn such preferential treatment from the steward.
Ling Xiuqing ignored the looks around her. She took the bowl of porridge and, with all her might, slowly bent down towards the steward, performing a most standard bow.
This was the first meal she earned with her skills and dignity.
She did not eat it rashly, but took small bites of the warm rice porridge into her mouth.
The warmth of the rice porridge slid down my esophagus into my stomach, instantly dispelling the burning hunger. A long-lost feeling of being alive spread throughout my body.
A warm tear fell silently into the bowl of porridge.
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