Chapter 145: The Little Ragamuffin in the Garbage Heap (35/52)

Damp, cold, and the sour stench that forced its way into his nostrils.

The little boy in ragged clothes had no time to care about cleanliness or anything of the sort; all he knew was that his stomach was so empty it was going numb.

Even under such circumstances, there was not a trace of panic on his face.

He knew that if he didn’t eat something soon, he might really die here.

If it weren’t for this desperate situation, he would never have come out to rummage through the trash in the rain, hoping to find something edible to fill his stomach.

He dug through for a while; most of it was just other refuse. Even the kitchen scraps mixed with the sour stench felt like a luxury.

He had originally hoped to find a half-eaten piece of fruit, or maybe some leftovers—if he could, that would be a rare, filling meal.

A child his age should have been wearing a raincoat, splashing in puddles, with a father playing at his side and a mother standing under the eaves, both happy and worried.

But he had never seen his own parents; he’d been raised by an orphanage.

From time to time, couples would come to adopt children.

With his temperament and a steadiness far beyond other kids, all he had to do was act a bit more agreeable and someone would surely choose him.

But if his adoption meant another child in the orphanage would lose their chance at a family, he’d rather stay behind.

At times like this, he found himself blaming the old director for teaching the children about benevolence, righteousness, courtesy, wisdom, and trust—instead of letting him be a little more selfish.

But there was nowhere to direct his blame anymore, since he could no longer see the old director.

The orphanage’s expenses had grown too heavy. They could no longer support both him and the other children, though he might have been younger than some of them.

Three meals a day became two, rice became rice gruel; of course, he noticed.

So he left the orphanage.

Because even after leaving, he could survive, but the others could not.

But he had been wrong.

The world outside was not what he’d imagined—there was almost nowhere looking for child labor, and some people even asked if he was a spy sent by competitors, out to report them for hiring minors.

At first, he could knock on doors nearby, begging for a bite or two, then wonder how he’d get by the next day.

Some people, seeing his pitiful state, even seemed to want to adopt him.

But he couldn’t risk putting his fate in the hands of a stranger’s kindness, so he continued wandering the streets.

Until his clothes were stained with filth and became tattered, and no one would open the door to give him food anymore.

Begging was no longer an option. Just a few days ago, while begging, he noticed a suspicious man who seemed like a human trafficker eyeing him.

Fine, he’d searched every trash can, found nothing to eat, and only made his already filthy clothes dirtier.

Now, his body was filthy, probably crawling with germs, his whole self soaked and on the verge of getting sick. His stomach was still empty, and soon he would lose the strength to move from hunger.

Then, survival would be even harder.

But what he needed to do now was minimize the damage. Maybe, if he found a way to dry himself off, he could at least avoid catching a cold.

He lifted his head from the garbage pile and looked around for an outdoor air conditioner unit.

A running outdoor AC unit could serve as a makeshift dryer for him.

Just then, he heard two footsteps behind him.

His vigilance instantly kicked in, and he spun around, ready to run.

In a place so deserted, if someone followed a child all the way to the garbage heap, it was hard to imagine they meant well.

But he saw no trafficker—there wasn’t even an adult.

Only a child, perfectly fitting his stereotypical image of someone from a happy family.

Wearing a children’s raincoat and holding a water gun, he was out in the rain just for fun, not because, like him, he had no choice.

The boy in front of him stared with pure, innocent eyes, apparently unable to understand what he was doing in the trash.

“Why are you standing in there?” the little boy actually asked.

“Looking for something to eat.”

“What could you possibly find to eat here?” The boy was completely baffled. “Oh, I get it—are you an orphan?”

It felt a bit rude, but it seemed to be the truth.

“That’s so pitiful, not even having food to eat,” the boy said, getting sad on his behalf.

He couldn’t say a word.

“How about this—come home with me. From now on, I’ll share my food with you. I never finish my meals anyway.” The boy reached out his hand. “My name’s Liu Xie. What’s yours?”

One stood outside the trash heap; the other, inside.

He thought maybe the rain had soaked his brain too much, or else how could he run into someone so innocent it was almost over the top?

He didn’t move, but Liu Xie did.

Seeing that the dirty, smelly boy hadn’t budged for a while, Liu Xie thought for a bit, then took off his raincoat.

Standing in the rain, he rolled around in the garbage heap.

“Now I’m just as dirty as you.” Liu Xie reached out his hand to the boy. “Come with me.”

The dirty, smelly boy realized—he definitely hadn’t gone crazy from the rain. Even in a dream, he couldn’t imagine such pure kindness.

“An Ran. My name is An Ran.”

The name the old director at the orphanage gave him—just a given name, no surname, waiting for the day someone adopted him and gave him their family name.

“Your surname’s An?” Liu Xie was curious. “I’ve never met anyone with the surname An.”

“No, I don’t have a surname.” He took Liu Xie’s hand.

Soft and innocent, just like its owner—nothing like his own.

Liu Xie tilted his head, then suddenly understood: “Oh, right, I forgot. You don’t have parents.”

His tone unconsciously grew sad again.

“I’ve got an idea. Here’s what we’ll do…” With a body healthier than his, Liu Xie yanked him right out of the garbage heap. “From now on, you’ll have my surname. My name’s Liu Xie, so you’ll be Liu An Ran.”

“Liu An Ran…” The boy in rags murmured the name, “Liu An Ran…”

The name echoed in his mind. By the time he came back to himself, he saw Liu Xie rolling around in dirty garbage water on a luxurious carpet, while a man and woman before Liu Xie kept sighing.

“If you throw Liu An Ran out, I’ll go with him. I’ll eat garbage with him, too.”

“You’re really asking for it!” said Liu Father, pulling off his belt.

“Even if you beat me to death, I still want him to stay! If you’re willing to kill me, then go ahead!”

No one had ever seen him so stubborn before.

Liu Mother held back the furious Liu Father and gently asked, “Why do you insist on saving him?”

“Because I want to.”

Liu An Ran experienced, for the first time in his life, the combined scolding of a father and mother.