On the streets of Langton, a soup kitchen was distributing porridge.
In front of the soup kitchen, a long line had already formed. A large cauldron was cooking a fragrant wheat porridge.
Though the food smelled tempting, there wasn't a single smile on the faces of the impoverished people queued up for charity.
A man with a troubled expression finally reached the front of the line, humbly lifting his empty bowl towards the worker distributing the porridge.
The worker glanced at him with slight disdain, stirred the cauldron with a large ladle, scooped up a ladleful of golden, thick wheat porridge, and poured it into the man's bowl.
Seeing that the ladleful filled only two-thirds of his bowl, the man's expression grew even more anxious, his already bent back lowering further. In a pleading voice, he said, "Please, a little more!"
But the charity worker merely tapped the cauldron with the ladle, gesturing for the next person to step forward.
