Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

The little girl nodded very slightly, her chin tilting down briefly before lifting it back up.

Emily stood up and reached out her hand. The little girl didn't take it; she stood up on her own, brushed off non-existent dust from her T-shirt, and put her hands back down at her sides.

The three of them walked towards the door. As they passed the three staff members, Emily didn't look at them, nor did Lin Yuan. The little girl kept her head down, her hair obscuring half her face.

The woman in purple moved her lips, as if muttering something, but her voice was too soft and was drowned out by the whistles and voices at the door. The bearded man stuffed the ten yuan back into his pocket, and when he pulled his finger out, a coin came out with it, fell to the ground, and rolled away with a clink. He didn't pick it up.

The door closed behind me, the sound of the iron gate shut muffled, like a cough that had been muffled.

A rush of fresh air filled the air. The March evening in South Carolina was cool, carrying a hint of exhaust fumes and dust. The sun had already dipped behind the church steeple, casting a long shadow of the cross that stretched across the gravel of the parking lot.

The fight at the door had broken up. The fat policeman pressed the military green jacket against the hood of the police car and was handcuffing him.

The scarred man had vanished. The man in the fisherman's hat sat on the curb, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with his sleeve. The homeless man who had snatched the sandwich squatted against the wall, stuffing it into his mouth frantically, his cheeks bulging as if about to burst, his eyes scanning his surroundings warily.

No one noticed that three people came out of the side door of the church.

Emily walked straight towards the white Toyota, her steps quick, her canvas bag swaying on her shoulder. Lin Yuan followed behind her, and the little girl followed behind Lin Yuan; the three of them formed a quiet line as they crossed the parking lot.

The car door opened, I got in, and closed it. Everything outside was shut out.

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The car drove out of the relief station's parking lot and turned onto the main street. The tires rolled over a crack in the pavement, causing the car to jolt slightly.

Emily gripped the steering wheel, her knuckles white. Her lips were still pursed, her gaze fixed straight ahead, as if there was something on the windshield worth staring at. The wooden cross hanging on the rearview mirror swayed gently with the vibrations of the car, once, then again.

Lin Yuan sat in the passenger seat without saying a word.

In the back seat, the little girl curled up, her knees pressed against the back of the seat in front of her, her hands resting on her lap, her fingers slightly curled. Her face was turned towards the window, but her eyes weren't looking at anything outside; she was simply waiting.

The car had been driving for about ten minutes. Emily took one hand off the steering wheel, rubbed her forehead, and then put it back. Her breathing was a little more even than before.

The car stopped in front of a 7-Eleven, the sign lights shining red and green in the twilight.

Emily kept her hand on the gear shift, not getting out of the car immediately. She stared at the convenience store door for a few seconds, then turned to look at the back seat.

What would you like to eat?

The little girl didn't move.

"Sandwiches? Bento boxes?" Emily asked softly. "They also have hot food; their grilled chicken breast bento boxes are pretty good."

The little girl's lips moved. "...Anything is fine."

The sound was very soft, like a piece of paper being crumpled.

Emily glanced at her for two seconds, then opened the car door. Lin Yuan also got out of the car.

The cool fluorescent lights in the convenience store were even more glaring than the fluorescent lights in the basement of the relief station. The shelves were neatly arranged, and the air conditioning was blasting. A clerk in a red uniform was looking at her phone behind the counter; she glanced up briefly when the doorbell rang, then looked down again.

Lin Yuan took two hot dogs from the shelf—the bread was soft, with a grilled sausage in the middle, and ketchup and mustard squeezed on top. The microwave next to the checkout had just been turned on, so they were still hot to the touch. He also took two bottles of water, a bag of sliced ​​bread, and a few bananas.

I stopped briefly as I passed the snack section and took a bar of chocolate from the shelf, the kind with nuts.

When Emily reached for the card reader to pay, Lin Yuan had already handed her the bills.

"I'll do it," he said.

Emily glanced at him but didn't argue.

Back in the car, Lin Yuan handed the bag to the back seat.

"Eat up, and I'll take you home afterwards."

The little girl glanced at the bag. A small, dark oil stain had seeped from the steam of the hot dog onto the corner of the paper bag.

She didn't answer immediately, but looked up at Lin Yuan—that wariness was still there, her gray-green eyes peering at him from beneath her disheveled hair, like a cat unsure whether to emerge from its hiding place.

Then she took it.

She ate quickly, but not wolfed it down. Lin Yuan noticed her movements as she unwrapped the packaging—her fingers were steady, and she didn't spill any sauce when pulling the hot dog out of the paper bag. The ketchup and mustard were still neatly on the sausage, without getting any on her lips.

She neatly folded the empty wrappers and paper bags, then stuffed them back into the bag. It wasn't the kind of eating driven to madness by hunger; she was controlling herself.

This kind of control is, in some ways, more uncomfortable than being out of control—an eleven or twelve-year-old shouldn't be doing this.

"What's your name?" Emily asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror.

There was a few seconds of silence.

"...Zoe."

"Zoe," Emily repeated, as if confirming the pronunciation of the name. "Where do you live?"

Zoe gave an address to a poor neighborhood in the east of the city, about a 20-minute drive from here.

Emily started the car.

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The streets in the slums are narrower than those near the relief station.

The houses on both sides of the road were crammed together, some windows were covered with newspapers, and some doorways were piled with abandoned furniture—a sofa with only three legs was leaning on the steps, with springs sticking out of the holes.

Half of the streetlights were broken, and the few that were lit emitted a dim yellow light, making the broken glass on the ground shimmer.

A few teenagers squatted in front of a building, the streetlights just barely illuminating them, only the red dots of cigarette butts flickering in the shadows. Their eyes followed the white Toyota, like a flock of birds perched on a wire turning their heads in unison.

Emily parked her car in front of the gray apartment building Zoe pointed out.

The iron gate at the entrance of the building was half-crooked and was barely held together by a wire.

The porch light wasn't on; it was pitch black inside. There was graffiti on the wall—a few letters stacked together, their meaning illegible. A television light shone from a second-floor window, glowing blue and flickering.

Zoe's hand was on the car door handle, but she didn't push it immediately.

Emily took a few bills from her wallet, turned around, and handed them to Zoe in the back seat. She didn't slip them to her; she handed them to her, her palm outstretched, letting Zoe take them herself.

Zoe glanced down. The banknotes were neatly folded, making it impossible to tell how many there were. She didn't count them, but simply clutched them in her palm, her fingers squeezing them together into a small ball, which then disappeared into her hand.

"Wait a moment."

Lin Yuan turned around and looked at Zoe.

Her grey-green eyes met his. This time, she didn't look away.