Fortunately, the buns were still warm, and so was the millet porridge.
Dawa ate all the millet porridge in the jar along with the eggs in it.
He only had two buns and put the rest in a plastic bag, looking up at He Xiuwen, He Xiuwen nodded, "If you can't eat it all, take it back with you."
Dawa stood up, "Thank you for buying buns for me and my brother."
Then he bowed deeply to He Xiuwen.
He Xiuwen didn't stop him, children who knew gratitude and manners—if they could keep it up—would not harm society in the future, even if they couldn't become successful.
Only then did he ask Dawa, "What do you need from me?" Then, pausing briefly, he continued, "Call me Uncle He."
Dawa's tears suddenly started falling.
That night, after parting with his dad in the mountain hollow, he had held his brother and couldn't sleep all night. By morning, someone was standing at the village entrance, crying and cursing loudly.
He and his brother were too scared to leave the house.