Page (1/3)

Brain storage.

The twenty-eighth year of the Republic of China, Beiping, winter.

As soon as the time enters the tenth month of the lunar calendar, the wind becomes dry and biting.

There is less snow and more wind in Beiping in winter. The sky is often gray and khaki, and the sun is pale and weak.

The dirt roads in the alley were frozen hard and cracked, and whenever the wind blew, dust would rise up and become choking.

It hurts, it hurts.

I had a splitting headache and felt cold all over.

One second I was sound asleep in a warm room, and the next second I was choked by the biting cold wind and couldn't breathe.

The tip of my nose was filled with the smell of dust, soot and frozen musty.

She opened her eyes suddenly, and the familiar ceiling was not in front of her.

Instead, they were dilapidated houses with air leakage, wooden windows covered with torn paper, and mud floors covered with hoarfrost.

The body was covered with a thin, hard, tattered quilt that smelled musty.

His hands and feet were frozen stiff. When he raised his hands, he saw a pair of skinny, frostbite-covered hands that didn't belong to him at all.

The original owner was an orphan girl in the Hutong of Beiping, with no father or mother, no name or surname.

He barely survived by mending and washing people. He had been freezing and hungry for the past few days, and he lost his breath after a cold wind.

When he opened his eyes again, his soul had been replaced by a person from a hundred years later.

Ye Jingshu lay on the already cold kang, staring numbly at the roof covered with spider webs.

This is Peiping in 1939, a hell on earth under the iron heel of the Japanese army.

The roaring in his stomach came one after another, crushing the last bit of confusion into pieces.

She is not a student in the history class now, but an orphan girl who is about to starve to death in the city of Peiping in the 28th year of the Republic of China.

To survive, start by filling your stomach.

She wrapped herself tightly in an old cotton-padded jacket that was so thin that it leaked light and air, hunched her shoulders and walked out against the wall.

The wind was blowing on my face like a knife, and there were few pedestrians on the street. They all looked gray and walked in a hurry.

She was about to go to the alley to ask if anyone needed repairs for their stuttering.

The original needlework was taught by my mother when she was still alive.

My father was a hardworking coolie who was captured on the street by the Japanese puppets.

He never came back, he never saw anyone alive, and never saw his body after death.

My mother, who was already in frail health, shed tears all day long after hearing the news.

His eyes were blinded by crying and his spirit was broken. Not long after, he fell ill and passed away.

Once my mother left, my family was gone.

The original owner became the most inconspicuous orphan girl in the alley, helpless and helpless.

Fortunately, most of the neighbors in the alley come from hard backgrounds and have good hearts.

Grandma Wang next door is kind-hearted and often feeds her half a steamed bun with leftover food.

Just as I turned a narrow alley, I suddenly heard a muffled sound in front of me.

Page (1/3)