The lame beggar held a brocade box in his arms and hid behind the big tree, tightly closing his eyes.
Tears blurred his face, and it took a long time before he had the energy to stand up again.
He ate most of the food in the brocade box, tore some rags from his clothes, and tied the box to his body, hiding it under his tattered garments.
He knew very well that if other beggars saw such a box, they would definitely snatch it away and exchange it for small change at a pawnshop.
This was given by her, the only thing on him that still carried her scent.
Having done all this, he leaned on his crutch and made his way to Du Wanqing's grave.
The bouquets at the grave had been torn apart by the beggars, some of whom had plucked the leaves and stuck them on their heads, laughing cheerfully.
The lame beggar picked up the broken flower stems from the ground, barely managed to arrange them, and placed them back in front of the grave.
