"Alright, but only for an hour."
"But without me, how will Grandma live?"
The words had barely left her lips when Erya found herself standing at her front door.
The house looked empty. Erya ran inside, and Wen Ying followed, only to see a gaunt, skeletal old woman lying on the small bed.
Erya stood before her grandmother's bed, unable to stop herself from covering her mouth and crying, yet she was afraid her grandmother would hear.
Her grandmother was in poor health and always sick. She'd even had a bad fall a while ago. Her grandmother's eyes were closed, as if she were asleep.
Erya looked at Wen Ying and asked timidly, "Could you help me make some porridge for my grandma?"
Wen Ying nodded and headed for the kitchen. It could hardly be called a kitchen—just a small space with a simple earthen stove.
She washed some millet, tossed it in, and sliced a sweet potato. It seemed there were no other ingredients in the house.
