"Originally, there were three pieces of black bread, but the aroma on the way home was too tempting, so I couldn't resist taking a bite... The taste was truly delicious, so I couldn't help but bite more..."
Little York lowered his head and pushed the two and a half pieces of black bread he was holding tightly in his arms towards his mother, his face full of guilt, like a child seeking forgiveness from his mother for doing something wrong.
Two and a half pieces of black bread,
One of them already had half missing,
With neat bite marks on the edge.
Little York was an understanding child; ever since his father's death, a huge portion of the workforce at home was lost, but the amount of work didn't diminish at all, all tasks fell on his mother.
Though he couldn't do much, Little York still tried his best to do what he could.
He knew that compared to himself, his mother was even more hard-working, leaving early and returning late, toiling from dawn till dusk.
