PREVIEW

... ons given by the uncle downstairs were really good.

The stems were tender, locally grown small red-tipped scallions; the heads were a purplish red, and the white roots still had some slight earth on them, looking not so clean.

But they were so fresh that even Xiaofeng, when washing the vegetables, couldn’t bear to handle them roughly.

Yet, thinking of the scallion oil rice her son would eat, she felt a pang of sorrow: the child was too sensible, knowing their home’s situa ...

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