A few minutes later.
Fang Cheng put down the empty bowl and grabbed a napkin to wipe his mouth.
He stood up, walked to the entrance, pulled down the canvas backpack hanging from the wall hook, and slung it over one shoulder.
Then he crouched down and changed into a pair of sneakers with slightly worn soles.
"I'm full, going to school."
Fang Cheng called inside.
His mother leaned half her body out from the kitchen, still holding a half-washed rag, and loudly instructed:
"The weather forecast says there'll be rain tonight, take the black umbrella at the door, don't catch a cold from the rain again."
"Got it."
Fang Cheng conveniently grabbed the long black umbrella leaning against the shoe cabinet and patted the side pocket of his backpack.
Then he passed through the garden with a few pots of roses, pulled open the iron gate, and stepped onto the slightly deserted street.
The iron door closed with a "clang", shutting out the coughing and TV noises from inside the house.
