When Jiang Cheng's burning gaze fixed on her, Reba shyly changed the subject.
"Why are we following Grandpa Zhao?"
Jiang Cheng glanced at her, lowered his voice and said, "I think he's been duped."
"Hmm? Duped?"
The words had barely left Reba's lips when Zhao Anning suddenly stopped at the welfare-centre gate.
He fished out the small change he'd just earned selling scrap from another pocket.
After stacking the bills neatly, he slipped them through the donation slot beside the gate.
Without leaving his name, he hurried away from the window.
Just then Jiang Cheng's phone rang.
He checked the screen—Wang Sheng—and answered.
At the end he said coldly, "Deal with it."
"What's wrong?"
Jiang Cheng tapped play on the short clip Wang Sheng had sent.
The boy on-screen was the pitiful-looking Xiao Qing.
Once out of sight, Xiao Qing dropped the pitiful act.
He now had the swagger of a street punk.
Munching the food Reba had bought him, he headed into an alley in the capital.
Moments later he met a middle-aged man and handed over the money.
"Dad, the old geezer's broke again. What do we do? He's finding fewer bottles these days."
The smoking man ruffled Xiao Qing's hair and offered advice.
"Son, don't be dumb. If he's got no money, make him find some—borrow, try online loans. A few grand a month ain't enough. In a few days tell him the school's organising a winter trip abroad, costs a few thousand. Get him to borrow. He doesn't know the internet—use his phone to take the loan. Dad'll show you how…"
Reba watched, stunned; shock and anger flashed across her lovely face.
"What! I felt guilty and was going to give that boy money—how could he? Grandpa Zhao's so kind and he's a con artist!"
Seeing Reba bristle like an angry kitten, Jiang Cheng gently stroked her hair.
"People praise the meat while hungry, then call the bowl dirty when full. A man can be wicked, but he can't be conscienceless."
"What do we do now? If Grandpa Zhao finds out, he'll be heart-broken…" Reba murmured, worried.
At that moment Zhao Anning turned and spotted them.
"Oh, you two followed me! I didn't notice. I'm almost home—come up for a cup of tea?"
He scratched his head with a good-natured smile.
Jiang Cheng accepted and followed him to a half-worn block round the corner.
The estate had been patched up long ago; no lift.
Climbing the stairs, Reba's face grew even sadder.
She had never been good at hiding her feelings.
Since Jiang Cheng said nothing about Xiao Qing, she forced herself to stay quiet.
To let Xiao Qing study in peace, Zhao Anning lived frugally.
The flat was spotless, but leftover food sat on the table and reclaimed rubbish filled the corners.
Zhao Anning apologised, "Sorry, hardly anyone visits."
Jiang Cheng took the worn cup without hesitation and drained it.
"Mr Zhao, is this public housing?"
Zhao Anning nodded gratefully.
"Yes, over ten years. It's free—the government arranged it. Good location, no rent."
Jiang Cheng knew such flats: government-built, rent-free for the needy.
They were small and shared a public toilet—by design.
If conditions were better, insiders would grab them before the public could.
This model curbed graft.
Society being what it is, most people grab whatever they can.
Even the well-off rarely consider the bigger picture.
People like Zhao Anning are rare.
"You live alone?"
"Yes, my wife died early; we had no children. I'm alone, but Xiao Qing calls me Grandpa and drops by sometimes…"