"For Qing's Family?"
"Yes, for Qing's Family."
"Is it worth it?"
Zhang Wenqi was taken aback: "Sorry, sir, I never thought about that."
Qing Chen asked puzzledly, "Then why are you doing this?"
Zhang Wenqi thought for a moment and said, "Because that's what our predecessors did, generation after generation. The success doesn't have to be mine."
"Where are you from?" Qing Chen asked.
"I was in City 10 before I turned 13, then I followed my superior to the north, changed my name. I haven't been back in 10 years," Zhang Wenqi said.
Qing Chen sighed inwardly, thinking how, in such chaotic times, a 13-year-old child would already have to face this cruel world.
"Sir, can I ask you a favor?" Zhang Wenqi asked.
"What is it?" Qing Chen asked.
"If you make it back alive, could you buy a bouquet of flowers for my mother?" Zhang Wenqi said, writing an address on the ground with his own blood, then wiping it away with his hand.
