The little one's purse connects the two worlds, turning a desolate village into a paradise.

Ya Ya was staring at the basket of plump, white steamed buns, wondering if she could sneak over and pick up a few, when suddenly a loud voice came from beside her, "Oh my god, whose little brat is this? What are you hiding here for?"

Startled, she shrank back and turned around to see an older woman wearing a blue apron standing by the stall behind her. She had a round face and smiling eyes, and was waving vigorously at her.

The aunt's stall had a tin stove with a roaring fire, and next to it were golden-fried sugar cakes, the steam carrying a sweet aroma that wafted towards Ya Ya.

Ya Ya clutched her clothes tightly and took a half step back, her round eyes staring at her aunt, her little body tense.

This was the first time someone had taken the initiative to talk to her.

Seeing her wary little face, the auntie immediately smiled, her voice softening: "Don't be afraid, child. Auntie isn't a bad person. Look at your little jacket, it's as thin as paper, and it even has a hole in it. What if you get frostbite in this cold weather? Come here, warm your hands by the stove, and Auntie won't charge you!"

She then waved to her and moved the small stool next to the stove aside to make room: "Look how cold your little face is, come and warm yourself up. Auntie has some freshly cooked corn porridge, have a bowl to warm yourself up!"

The warm, cozy air wafted onto her face, and a sweet fragrance filled her nose. Ya Ya relaxed a little, twisting the hem of her clothes with her little hands, and slowly moved towards her aunt, her eyes glancing around every now and then, afraid that something might be wrong.

Seeing her approach, her aunt immediately lifted the lid of the small iron pot on the stove, releasing a warm and even more intense aroma of grains: "That's more like it! You little rascal, everyone loves you. Why did you come to the morning market all by yourself? Where are your parents? Why are you dressed so lightly? These clothes are as thin as paper, and why are they stuffed with straw inside? The morning markets in Northeast China are much colder than other places; getting chilled here is no joke!"

Ya Ya moved to sit on the small stool. The heat from the tin stove made her cheeks burn, and even her frozen ears slowly warmed up.

So this place is called the Northeast Morning Market. It's not as cold as in the village, just a bit windier.

She shyly stuffed the straw sticks that were sticking out of the hole in her clothes back in, glanced up at her aunt, and looked up timidly with her lips pursed tightly.

Seeing that she didn't speak, her aunt wasn't annoyed. She smiled and opened the lid of the small iron pot on the stove wider, taking out a small transparent plastic bowl. The bowl looked shiny and light to Ya Ya, unlike the heavy wooden bowls and rough porcelain bowls in the village.

The aunt scooped a large spoonful of thick corn porridge into a bowl, with some sugar mixed in. The porridge was sweet and steaming hot. Afraid that the child would burn herself, she put the bowl next to the small stool and handed her a small transparent plastic spoon: "Here, drink it while it's hot."

Ya Ya held the light, flimsy spoon tightly, afraid to use too much force for fear of breaking it.

She looked down at the golden porridge beside her, each grain of rice soft and sticky. She had never seen such food before and wondered to herself: Is this fine bowl and this rare porridge really for her? Doesn't it cost money?

After hesitating for a long time, she finally spoke in a soft voice, "Auntie, I... I don't have any money on me..."

The aunt was frying sugar cakes with her head down. She vaguely heard her talking, waved her hand and laughed, "Hey, look at what you're saying, child. What money do you want? Auntie is giving it to you! It's just a bowl of porridge. Hurry up and drink it, or it will get soggy!" As she spoke, she moved closer to her to shield her from the cold wind.

Ya Ya carefully picked up the bowl, scooped up a small spoonful, and the sweet, glutinous aroma melted in her mouth with the warm steam, sliding down her throat and instantly soothing her stomach.

She wasn't as slovenly as she was during the day. Before bed, Grandma Liu had specially washed her little hands and face with water and smoothed her hair. Although she was wearing a tattered thin coat, she was quite clean.

Before long, the morning market became even more lively, with shoppers carrying loads of goods coming and going, their footsteps, shouts, and chatter filling the air with vibrant energy.

The aunt's stall was also surrounded by customers. While she was deftly frying sugar cakes and packing them into bags, she called out in a loud voice, "Freshly fried sugar cakes, piping hot! And freshly cooked corn porridge, sweet and sticky!"

Ya Ya sat quietly on the small stool, her eyes fixed on her aunt's busy movements. She watched her take out paper bags and hand them out. No one gave her any coins; they all used the shiny square box they had seen before to scan the aunt's stall and then left.

It was like some kind of strange ritual.

Once Ya Ya had seen it clearly, she quietly reached out and unfolded the folded paper bags, handing them one by one to her aunt, so that her aunt wouldn't have to keep bending over to unfold the bags.

The aunt was a little stunned when she touched her little hand for the first time, then her lips curved into a wider smile, and she took a moment to raise her hand and rub her little head.

Someone glanced at Ya Ya by the stove and casually asked, "Sister, is this your child? She's so sensible, getting up to help you at such a young age!"

Auntie kept working and replied with a smile, "How could that be? I wish I had a little girl. My son at home is such a rascal. This is a little kid I saw by the roadside. He's all alone. I called him over to warm himself by the fire. He's so adorable."

Ya Ya sat by the stove for almost half an hour. She was warm and cozy, but she was anxious. Her little hands kept touching the purse in her clothes, afraid that it would suddenly get hot and send her back like it did when she picked up the pig's trotter last time.

She hadn't found any food to take with her yet. Her aunt's porridge was warm, but she couldn't put it in her pocket, so it all went into her stomach. She hadn't eaten so much in a long time.

What I fear even more is that if I were to disappear into thin air, my aunt and others would mistake me for a monster.

Unbeknownst to her, every time she came to this area, her wallet would rationalize it for her. In the eyes of others, it wasn't a sudden appearance; she came out from the alley next door and silently walked back.

She held the empty, transparent bowl, her brows furrowed with worry. She sat ramrod straight, but kept glancing at the intersection she had come from, looking as if she wanted to leave but dared not.

Just as a group of customers left, the auntie stopped working, wiped the sweat from her brow, turned around and saw Ya Ya looking like this, and reached out to pat her little head: "Honey, what's wrong? Do you want to go home?"

Ya Ya was malnourished and thin, looking much younger than her actual age. At five years old, she was about the same age as a three-and-a-half-year-old child here. Her little body sat upright on the stool, making her even more endearing.

The kind-hearted aunt added, "You're so young, and there are so many people at the morning market. I'm worried about you going home by yourself. Do you remember your parents' phone number? I'll call them and have them pick you up."

Ya Ya blinked. What was a phone call? She knew that "Mom" meant "mother," so "Dad" must mean "father." She couldn't even remember what her parents looked like.

After a moment of hesitation, Ya Ya still spoke softly, "Auntie, my parents are gone, and I live with Granny Liu in the village. Granny Liu isn't in good health..."

Upon hearing this, Auntie wanted to slap herself. Why did she have to bring this up!

No wonder this kid is dressed in tattered clothes; he's so young and already out running around all by himself.