It was a small and worn out bag with stitches on it. The bag was clean, but its age made it turn yellowish. This was the bag that Chui Tin had prepared other than the three red bags and one black pouch when he left. Due to its feather light weight, Chui Yim took no notice of it and left with it on his shoulder. He had always expected clothes to be inside and never opened it since that day.
The simple bag was binded with a cloth such that one could put his hands inside as soon as they loosened it. Chui Yim put his hand in slowly. There was a viscous feeling in his arms. It felt as if he had placed his hand in water. When he took his hand out, there was a mineral in his palm.
A fallen star’s stone. Chui Yim looked at it, his eyes wide open. He put his hands in again, but this time round, there was only a dark red singlet. He repeated his actions and ended up with ten of the same singlets in front of him. But if one took a closer look, you would realise that the size of the singlets were all different.
Due to his past life’s habit, he had always preserved his bald head and avoided clothes that hindered his movement. Therefore, Chui Yim never wore the robes that Chui Tin made. Even during winter, he’d just drape a random cloth over his shoulder and discard it as soon as he got indoors.
Singlets were the only clothes he accepted, and these were all handmade by Chui Tin. Chui Tin might seem like an irresponsible father, but he still cared about Chui Yim and thus he made quite a few of the same singlets; five of each size as he didn’t know how Chui Yim’s body would develop after some time.
He was just like a father who was worried that his son would be too cold; he made all of Chui Yim’s clothes by himself and placed them into the bag with spatial storage ability.
Chui Tin was expecting Chui Yim to be flabbergasted by this bag, but instead, Chui Yim was extremely touched. The letter in the workshop wrote: “It’s too troublesome, I kept everything in the bag for you.”
It was a small and worn out bag with stitches on it. The bag was clean, but its age made it turn yellowish. This was the bag that Chui Tin had prepared other than the three red bags and one black pouch when he left. Due to its feather light weight, Chui Yim took no notice of it and left with it on his shoulder. He had always expected clothes to be inside and never opened it since that day.
The simple bag was binded with a cloth such that one could put his hands inside as soon as they loosened it. Chui Yim put his hand in slowly. There was a viscous feeling in his arms. It felt as if he had placed his hand in water. When he took his hand out, there was a mineral in his palm.
A fallen star’s stone. Chui Yim looked at it, his eyes wide open. He put his hands in again, but this time round, there was only a dark red singlet. He repeated his actions and ended up with ten of the same singlets in front of him. But if one took a closer look, you would realise that the size of the singlets were all different.
Due to his past life’s habit, he had always preserved his bald head and avoided clothes that hindered his movement. Therefore, Chui Yim never wore the robes that Chui Tin made. Even during winter, he’d just drape a random cloth over his shoulder and discard it as soon as he got indoors.
Singlets were the only clothes he accepted, and these were all handmade by Chui Tin. Chui Tin might seem like an irresponsible father, but he still cared about Chui Yim and thus he made quite a few of the same singlets; five of each size as he didn’t know how Chui Yim’s body would develop after some time.
He was just like a father who was worried that his son would be too cold; he made all of Chui Yim’s clothes by himself and placed them into the bag with spatial storage ability.
Chui Tin was expecting Chui Yim to be flabbergasted by this bag, but instead, Chui Yim was extremely touched. The letter in the workshop wrote: “It’s too troublesome, I kept everything in the bag for you.”
