From the time when a child could remember, the first thing he felt was hunger.
Hunger was always gnawing away at his body all the time. He never knew what it was like to be full.
He had always lived in the garbage dump, in the hole dug within a pile of garbage. The smell that was unbearable for others, he was long accustomed to it.
The smell seemed to have soaked into his body and blood, penetrating into his entire body, making him exude the disgusting smell from the inside out.
Everyone shunned him.
But this was the only way for him to survive.
Only by staying at the dumpsite, could he swiftly snatch the discarded leftovers and cold food at first sight and fill his hungry stomach a little.
And only in the smelly garbage dump, would those beggars that were taller than him, not come to snatch the residence he’d finally dug up.
He couldn’t remember how many times, in order to fight for a little food, he beat others till they werebadly bruised.1
No matter how strong the opponent was, he never flinched.
He had seen people starving to death. Those ugly, shrivelled corpses lying on the ground, lifeless, and a little bit decayed. They gave off the unpleasant smell of the dead, attracting vultures and mice who would gnaw on the bodies.
He didn’t want to be like that, he wanted to live no matter what.
How did a scrawny child snatch food from those who were taller and stronger than him, and survive?
By being ruthless. By being more ferocious than anyone else.
In this place where the strong devoured the weak, no one would help, one could only rely on oneself. The survivors had to be like mad dogs, even if their legs were broken, they’d have to fiercely bite off a piece of flesh from the opponent.
He was once beaten all over his body. Without letting go, he abruptly bit off a finger of the man who wanted to snatch his food.
That was how he survived.
He couldn’t remember how many times he had been injured or how many times he had been in near-death situations.
He had once crawled back into the hole in the garbage dump with his broken leg and had a high fever the whole day and night. He thought he would die just like that.
But maybe it really was fate – he managed to withstand and survive.
The slums were the darkest and ugliest places in the capital. Filthy beggars of all walks of life stayed in that place, where the rubbish gathered, and where the city dumped their trash… Maybe they themselves were a part of what was being thrown out and abandoned.
They only deserved to live in this rotten, dark place.
Occasionally, when he went out of the slum to beg, all he saw were looks of disgust and abomination or evasive eyes. Even those so-called kind people, when they saw him, their glances were condescending and contemptuous, as if looking down at an ant.
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