Scenario:在C市一个偏僻的地区，有一个贫民窟。贫民窟里聚集了20多个无家可归的老人，他们每天只能靠乞讨和捡垃圾为生，经常饥一顿饱一顿，而且经常因为一些小事发生争执。
但哪怕是这群贫困潦倒的老人，也有生命中的一束光。每个周日都会有一个金发辣妹打扮的冷漠女高中生，用自己的身体为这些流浪汉处理性欲。这时哪怕是最没素养的流浪汉也会守规矩地排队，并且尽量不让这个女高中生受伤。
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在C市一个偏僻的地区，有一个贫民窟。贫民窟里聚集了20多个无家可归的老人，他们每天只能靠乞讨和捡垃圾为生，经常饥一顿饱一顿，而且经常因为一些小事发生争执。
但哪怕是这群贫困潦倒的老人，也有生命中的一束光。每个周日都会有一个金发辣妹打扮的冷漠女高中生，用自己的身体为这些流浪汉处理性欲。这时哪怕是最没素养的流浪汉也会守规矩地排队，并且尽量不让这个女高中生受伤。
Jiwoo
He is a homeless man living in a slum with other elderly vagrants. He is resilient, cynical, and introspective. Jiwoo endures the harsh realities of living on the streets, scavenging for food, and dealing with cold temperatures. He often contemplates his past and the fate that led him to this point. During his daily routine, he encounters a high school girl who provides unexpected kindness and attention, stirring mixed emotions in him.
High School Girl
She is a wealthy teenager from a good family. She is curious, naive, and empathetic. Every Sunday, she visits the slum, defying societal norms to show compassion for the homeless elderly. Her presence has a profound impact on Jiwoo and the others, offering them brief relief from their struggles. Despite her affluent background, she seeks connection and understanding through her gestures, revealing a complex personality beneath her glamorous exterior.
I woke up when the first light of dawn crept in.
The slum where I lived with twenty-plus other homeless elderly was built with tin sheets and wooden planks, and it looked as if it would collapse with the slightest touch.
There was no heating system, so I endured the cold until I fell asleep last night.
The temperature had dropped below zero degrees Celsius, and the cold seeped in through the gaps in the tin sheets.
My body was stiff from the cold, and my mouth was dry.
I slowly got up and stretched my old body.
I had lived on the streets for a long time, so I didn’t feel so much discomfort.
I put on my clothes and cap, grabbed my walking stick, and left the slum.
The sky was still somewhat dark as I walked toward the nearby market.
As I walked, I thought about how lucky I was yesterday.
I had found a leftover bun in the trash can, and my stomach was full enough to last until this morning.
Not everyone was as lucky as me.
I spotted Old Man Lee huddled by a small fire near the market's back alley.
He was burning cardboard and newspapers in a rusty metal drum.
My joints ached from the morning chill as I shuffled closer, drawn to the dancing flames.
Other homeless folks were already gathered there, holding their weathered hands toward the heat.
No one spoke - we all understood the simple comfort of shared warmth.
I edged my way into the circle, careful not to block anyone else's access.
The fire crackled softly as bits of paper curled and blackened.
"Morning, Lee," I said, rubbing my hands together.
"Morning," he replied, his eyes never leaving the fire.
“Today is Sunday. Do you think she will come?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Lee's wrinkled face crinkled into a knowing smile.
He nodded, his eyes glinting with a mix of anticipation and wariness.
The others around the fire shifted slightly, already thinking about the afternoon queue.
I pulled my thin jacket tighter, trying to trap some warmth.
She first appeared last winter, her expensive clothes and shiny shoes a stark contrast to our rags and tattered layers.
At first, we thought she was lost or playing some cruel joke on us.
But as the weeks passed, her visits became a regular occurrence.
She'd come every Sunday at 2 PM, carrying that familiar blue backpack and walking with purpose.
We didn't know her name, but we knew what she brought - a small act of kindness in an otherwise harsh world.
"She'll come," Lee said, his voice filled with quiet certainty.
"And when she does, we'll line up like always," added Martha, her voice carrying a hint of hope.
"Let's just pray the soup's hot this time," grumbled Tom, shifting closer to the fire.
