"What's wrong with Mom? She was fine when I left," the boy asked, turning his head in concern.
Song Zijie followed the boy's gaze and saw a little girl, about eleven or twelve years old, stumbling toward the New Year's print stall.
She ran up to the boy, panting, and couldn't help but frown when she saw the pile of New Year's prints in front of him.
"Brother, how come you haven't sold a single print? What are we going to do? We're out of rice at home."
Xi Li looked at the crestfallen boy and the little girl who looked like she was about to cry. Her heart went out to them, and she stepped forward to ask, "How much are your New Year's prints?"
The boy and his sister looked up in unison at the pretty lady approaching them. The little girl said eagerly, "Ten cents a piece."
"Count how many you have in total. We'll take all of them," Song Zijie said, crouching down to be at eye level with the boy.
