I took down my aunt's phone number and kept it in my mind.

From that moment on, I always felt that I was deceived into France.

Sixteen years old, the most rebellious time.

I searched every corner of the house and found a total of thirty-seven euros.

is full of enthusiasm and plans to run away from home with thirty-seven euros.

But I know that Thirty-Seven Euros cannot be separated from France, and I don't know how far I have gone.

The foreigners pointed in this direction whenever they saw my complexion, and I was vaguely pointed to a street called the Choissy Triangle.

I started to see a lot of people with the same skin color and face as me, and they called it China's Little Asia.

Later, I learned that this is the largest Chinatown in Paris, France, where Chinese people gather.

A school for the French? I don't like it.

French food? I don't like it.

The French in France? I don't like it.

That's right, foreigner.

In their eyes, I am a foreigner.

Only in this Chinatown did I feel a little bit of home.

I squatted in front of a shop with three Chinese characters written "Chinese restaurant" in the afternoon.

In my four years in France, I have forgotten about the alleys in China.

Forget the courtyard and forget the delicious noodle soup.

I also forgot what shape and appearance the braised pork was.

But outside this restaurant, I asked about the familiar scent.

An uncle came out of the Chinese restaurant and brought me a bowl of broth.

I grunted and drank it out, and it was the best thing I had since I came to France.

I remember my uncle asking me where my family was, and what were you doing here? Is it Chinese? It can't be a stick and a devil, right?

The uncle asked a lot, but the rebellious me only said, "Did you make this soup?" ”

"Of course, how can you answer the wrong question?" Uncle said.

I don't know what tendon was missing in my head at the time, so I took all the banknotes and coins from my pocket. Thirty-seven euros came out and asked him to teach me how to make soup.

The uncle was stunned and led me into the dining room.

There seems to be only one person in the restaurant, and the uncle made a bowl of beef noodles with noodle soup for me.

I don't quite remember what I said that day.

I went home that day, and I didn't spend 30 euros a piece.

I have an extra chef, in a Chinese restaurant in Little Asia.

It was also on that day that I became a complete liar.

I lied to my parents that I was still in school and that I didn't have to worry if my grades were good.

I lied to my master that I was a child from a poor family and wanted to learn a trade from him.

My first reaction was to ask me how well I spoke, and the only thing I knew in four years was French.

After that, I became an apprentice in a restaurant, solving communication problems with foreigners for the chef.

The master stayed in Little Asia and didn't seem to know French.

In my eyes, the masters are the kind of people who shouldn't be in France.

Ninety percent of the customers in the master's Chinese restaurant are Chinese.

Foreigners came before to take a look at the Chinese recipe and leave, rarely ordering.

And my arrival changed a little.

I also tried to add French to the menu.

The whole restaurant was just the two of us.

The master is in charge of the Chinese, and I am in charge of the foreigners.

When I say that it sounds good, it is an apprentice, and when I say it is bad, it is actually a laborer.

And it's a sixteen-year-old child laborer, but it's rarely checked here.

I work for the master, I don't get paid but I take care of the food.

I don't care about the pay, because it's only on this street that I feel like I'm back in China.

The master used to be because he didn't have the money to hire someone, so he was the only one.