In Beijing in November, the wind was already cutting like a knife. The incident in the Summer Square, like all the vigorous events in history, was quietly buried in people's memories. Those who passed away for various reasons are always there. One day, it will turn into a few dry paragraphs in a book. Occasionally, someone will read it, and then they will know that there is such a thing. Time and history are so ruthless. At the same time, in a small southern town thousands of miles away from Beijing, the weather was not much warmer than Beijing. It was around five o'clock in the morning, it was still dark, and the street cleaners had already started working. The town was still relatively closed, and the commodity market It doesn't exist yet, so there are no businessmen working early or late, and the street seems particularly quiet. There is a children's welfare home in the west of the city. The people in the welfare home get up very early because there are many children in the hospital and they have to prepare breakfast for them. Aunt Jiang has worked in the orphanage for more than ten years and has brought up batches of orphans. Some of them have been adopted and have grown up. Some of them have disabilities or congenital diseases and have left early. But every morning, she would still get up on time, fetch water from the well in the yard, and prepare a large pot of boiling water for the children to wash their faces and brush their teeth after they got up. When Aunt Jiang was in the yard, she would always look at the gate of the orphanage as a habit, because many children were picked up by him at the gate in the early morning. Sure enough, Aunt Jiang saw another basket at the door. There are always some parents who throw their children into the orphanage after discovering that they have some problems after giving birth. "What a sin" Aunt Jiang thought, put down the bucket, came to the door, and looked at the basket. There was indeed a child in it, sleeping soundly. Aunt Jiang took the child out of the basket and looked at the child. He was pretty and had no flaws on the surface. It was just that the weather was cold and his little face was a little red from the cold. Aunt Jiang looked at the basket again and found that there was a small piece of paper inside, which said, "My lover has passed away, and I have no life left to love. I have left behind a son. I hope that kind people will raise him and let him grow up healthily - Rui " Aunt Jiang is not well educated, but she also knows that the mother who left the child probably left the child because her husband died and she didn't want to live. She doesn't know why she didn't give the child to her grandparents or grandpa. She was raised by her grandmother but had to be handed over to an orphanage. I think this person named "Rui" may have left this world by now. Aunt Jiang could only sigh again. At this time, the child in her arms cried out, and he woke up from the cold. Aunt Jiang quickly hugged him tightly and coaxed him, and the child soon stopped crying. "Poor baby, what's your name? All the children in the orphanage are named Dang. Your mother's name is Rui, but she is really hard-hearted. So, let's call you Lei, Dang Lei"