In the dirty dungeon, a child in sackcloth and linen squatted in front of the unkempt woman, trying to feed the porridge that was as thin as water into the woman's mouth.

"Mother, have some porridge."

"Mother is not thirsty." The woman's voice was weak, "Wu'er eats by herself."

The child shook his head: "Wu'er is not hungry either."

"Then let's keep it, okay?"

"it is good."

The child hid some broken ceramic bowls behind the dead grass.

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