Studying at Western University starts with a knife-forging competition

"You've been waiting for a long time." Emily squatted down so that her line of sight was level with the little girl's.

She didn't reach out to touch her, but just squatted there, her hands on her knees, speaking very softly, as if talking to an easily frightened animal.

"Wait a minute, almost there—"

A hand pressed down on Emily's shoulder.

It's Lin Yuan.

"Wait a minute," he said.

Emily turned around, her brow furrowed, and her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something. There was a hint of confusion in her expression—not understanding why Lin Yuan was stopping her—but more than that, a suppressed anger.

It wasn't directed at Lin Yuan, but at those staff members; they just hadn't found an exit yet. She took a deep breath, as if telling herself to listen to the rest first.

Lin Yuan did not explain.

He released Emily's shoulder and walked towards the group.

The three staff members quickly stuffed the last three items of food—two sandwiches and a carton of milk—into the little girl's arms, as if they were eager to get rid of something. The little girl held them with both hands, the food piled up in front of her chest, obscuring half of her body.

Her chin rested on the sandwich wrapper, her eyes peeking out from above the food as she watched Lin Yuan approach.

Lin Yuan squatted down in front of her.

His gaze was level with the little girl's. Her grey-green eyes met his for a second, then looked away, landing on his shoulder.

It's not disrespect, it's just that I'm used to avoiding eye contact.

Lin Yuan reached out and took the three portions of food from her arms.

The little girl's fingers instinctively tightened, as if she wanted to grab something, but she did not resist.

Her hand hovered in the air for a moment, then fell to her side. Empty.

She was stunned. Emily was stunned too.

"you--"

Before Emily could even speak, Lin Yuan had already stood up.

The sandwich and milk felt heavy in his hands, and the wrappers still held the warmth of the little girl's palms.

He walked towards the door.

The homeless men turned their gazes over and saw what Lin Yuan was holding.

The man in the military green jacket sat up straight, his back away from the wall. The one with the scar on his arm licked his lips. The man in the fisherman's hat pulled his hand out of his pocket.

Lin Yuan threw the three portions of food out.

The two sandwiches drew an arc in the air, their wrappers reflecting the evening sunlight, gleaming briefly, before landing on the ground, bouncing, and rolling half a circle.

The milk carton fell to the ground with a dull thud, then bounced up, rolled twice, and came to a stop beside the curb.

There was silence for about a second.

Then the homeless men sprang up as if they had been electrocuted.

The man in the military green jacket was the first to lunge forward, his knee hitting the ground as he reached for the nearest sandwich. The scarred man crashed into him from the side, his shoulder striking the ribs of the man in the military green jacket, and both of them swayed to one side.

The man in the fisherman's hat walked past them to grab the milk, but just as his fingers touched the carton, a hand reached out from behind and grabbed his collar.

The four people huddled together, pushing, pulling, and cursing at each other. Their voices were hoarse and broken, squeezed out from deep in their throats, like the growls of wild dogs fighting over food.

Dust billowed up, mixed with hoarse shouts, and chaos erupted at the entrance.

The fat policeman rushed over from beside the patrol car, smashing a coffee cup on the ground and splattering brown liquid everywhere. He whistled, grabbed the back of the military green jacket with one hand, and pushed the scarred man's shoulder with the other.

"Scatter! Scatter, all of you!" His voice was mingled with the whistles and voices.

The people in line turned to look. The old man with glasses glanced at the door, then turned back, tucking the sandwich he had received into his pocket. The old woman pushing the shopping cart shook her head and slowly pushed it away.

The little girl stood in the corner of the relief station, her hands hanging emptily at her sides. There was no food, no milk, nothing at all. She looked even smaller than before, as if something had been taken away from her.

The homeless men's gazes completely shifted away from her. She was no longer prey. She was just like everyone else—she had nothing, not worth taking.

The little girl's lips were trembling; the corners of her mouth turned down slightly, but she forced them back together. Her eyes were red, but no tears fell.

Her fingers gripped the hem of her T-shirt so tightly that her knuckles turned white, then slowly, little by little, she loosened her grip.

She stood there, empty-handed, watching the fighting crowd at the entrance, her face expressionless.

Lin Yuan turned around.

Emily stood in front of him, her chest heaving, her hands clenched into fists and pressed against her sides.

The apron strap was askew to one side, but she ignored it. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but she swallowed it back, her throat bobbing.

She did not have a fit of anger on the spot.

Lin Yuan noticed this. She was furious—her eyes were trembling—but she didn't yell at him in front of everyone. She glanced at the little girl, then at the homeless men still fighting at the door.

The fat policeman had already pinned the military green jacket to the ground, while the scarred man grabbed a sandwich and was stuffing it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging like a squirrel's.

Emily took a deep breath, took off her apron, folded it, and placed it on the table.

The movements were slow, aligning one corner with the other and flattening it, as if using this action to calm himself down.

"Let's go." The voice was low, squeezed out between clenched teeth.

The three staff members stood in the corner, looking at each other in bewilderment.

The woman in purple still had her arms crossed over her chest, but the posture had changed—it was no longer the way she would hug someone who was just watching a spectacle, but rather as if she wanted to shrink herself down a bit.

The bearded man had his hands in his pockets, and the ten-dollar bill had somehow reappeared, twirling between his fingers.

The man in the baseball cap had his head down, the brim pulled even lower, staring at the tips of his shoes.

The bearded man seemed to want to say something; he opened his mouth slightly, but closed it after meeting Emily's gaze. His beard twitched, and he took a half-step back, his shoulder bumping against the wall.

Emily walked up to the little girl and squatted down again.

She squatted there for about ten seconds, saying nothing, just letting her breathing gradually calm down. The little girl stared at her, her gray-green eyes unblinking.

Then Emily spoke, her voice becoming very soft, just as it had when she was distributing food behind the long table.

"Come with us."

The little girl looked up at her. Her eyes were still wary, but there was something else in them—confusion.

She didn't understand what had just happened, why the woman squatting in front of her had first come over to help her, then been stopped, then had her food thrown away, and then the woman squatting there saying to her, "Come with us."

She doesn't understand.

But she was so thin that she didn't even have the strength to refuse.