Wake up and cry, work hard and sleep.
This kind of life, I don't know when it will reach its end.
Luo Wanya leaned against the tree, silently watching as sunlight filtered through the gaps in the foliage and onto his face: "Xiao Qi, what did you do before?"
"Unemployed," Xiao Qi chewed on a grass leaf nearby, smiling as he said, "I just danced every day, carefree."
"Before crossing over, I was a thug, did all sorts of things. Back then, when smuggling to Japan, I hid in the cargo hold of the smuggler's ship. At mealtimes, the smuggler would open the cargo hold and pour a pot of porridge directly on the ground, then all the stowaways would rush to grab it," Luo Wanya recounted, "People fought for that bit of porridge, getting injured in the battle and then using bloodied hands to scoop it up from the ground to eat."
