This was the only thing Yang Ge had ever asked him for help with in the six months he had been staying at the inn, and he truly couldn't refuse.,After turning several corners, the path became increasingly rugged, yet Yang Ge's footsteps grew lighter. The heavy tricycle felt as light and nimble in his hands as a wisp of incense.,The old man propped himself up from the ground slowly and picked up a gray, sweat-stained towel from the stool beside him. He met them with a mixture of reproach and concern: "Didn't I tell you not to come again This old man is almost buried up to his neck in earth. How much can he eat, how much can he wear If you have that money, save it and find a wife for me and settle down..."。