Years of malnutrition had turned the beggar's hair a little yellow.

Zhuohua looked at him, feeling a trace of sourness in her heart, and she sighed softly.

"Don't worry, we won't make you hungry again today, if it's not enough, then we'll continue to add until you feel full."

The mouth-watering dishes were served on the table one by one.

The beggar's eyes are fixed on the dishes on the table, and he keeps swallowing his saliva? He seemed to hear the rumbling of his own stomach.

Zhuohua asked for a pot of tea, scalded the dishes and chopsticks, and then handed it to the beggar.

"Eat." Zhuohua said softly.

This sentence fell on the ears of the beggar as if it were ordinary.

He stretched out his hand, which he couldn't wait for, and gripped the bamboo chopsticks tightly, and then began to gobble them up.

It seems that he is very hungry, and the beggar keeps stuffing things into his mouth, and he doesn't care about anything.

He felt like he was an explosion of happiness right now.

"Slow down." Zhuohua helplessly raised his hand to add a cup of tea to him, "Don't choke on your heart." ”

The beggar's heart was warm, and his eyes became a little red.

Since the death of the old beggar who had been taking care of him, he had never felt so warm as he did now.

He lowered his head, buried his face in the bowl, and frantically slipped the rice into his mouth so that others could not see his expression.

Luo Yang sat on the chair, his eyes looking at the bustling crowd on the street through the window, a little distracted.

"Have you ever tested the spiritual root?" Luo Yang suddenly turned his head and asked.

The beggar was slightly stunned, and the action of chopping rice froze there.

"What's wrong?" Luo Yang frowned slightly, not knowing why he was so abnormal.

The beggar's hand clenched on the chopsticks, and then slowly shook his head, "No Sakura"

"Why not?" Luo Yang crossed his arms and leaned back, looking at him with a gaze full of scrutiny. Genius one second to remember 噺バ壹 Chinese m.x/8/1/z//o/m/

"Go, you can't go."

The beggar's voice was very low, and if it weren't for Zhuohua and Luo Yang being monks, they really couldn't hear what he was.

"What do you mean?" Zhuohua looked at him with a serious face.

The beggar's body shrank again.

Zhuohua found that the beggar would always cower unconsciously, like a frightened bird.

It was as if the fear had taken root in his blood, and he had developed muscle memory.

"I ......"

The beggar bit his lower lip tightly, hesitating to speak.

"If you want to, you don't."

Zhuohua suppressed the emotions in his heart and said indifferently.

It is true that she has a glimmer of desire to help the beggar, but only a glimmer of it.

If the beggar didn't have the idea of resisting, why did she bother with that matter?

Maybe it's because she has stayed in the cultivation realm for many years, and she seems to have hardened her heart a lot.

Thinking like this, the emotion in her eyes faded a lot.

"They won't let me go. Every time on the eve, I would be injured by them, and then, I couldn't walk, I couldn't go to ......"ァ新ヤ~(8)~1~Chinese網ωωω.. còм <, domain name, remember

"The beggars?"

"Yes." The beggar nodded, a hint of hatred in his eyes.

"Why did they do that?" Zhuohua asked.

"Because ......" the beggar's eyes were full of sorrow.

"Because they think I'm different from them, and different people are different. is not allowed to exist. ”