清晨，在朦朦胧胧的雾中，走来一名40多岁左右的中年男子，他穿着一双破得能看到脚指头的破鞋，身上的衣服破烂不堪。他脸色苍白，嘴角被冷得刺骨的寒风吹得裂了开来，鲜血狂流不止，他的头发似乎半年没洗了，乱糟糟的。听别人说，他才30岁左右，可为什么他显得那么苍老呢？或许是他穿着的关系吧！
In the early morning, in the hazy fog, came a middle-aged man in his 40s. He was wearing a pair of ragged shoes that could see his toes, and his clothes were in tatters. His face was pale, the corners of his mouth were split by the cold wind, and his blood was running wildly. His hair seemed to have been washed for half a year. It was messy. Listen to others, he is only about 30 years old, but why does he look so old? Maybe it's the way he's dressed!
他一步步向我走来，10米、5米、2米、1米……
He came to me step by step, 10 meters, 5 meters, 2 meters, 1 meter
他终于在我身旁停下，递上来一只碗……
He finally stopped by my side and handed me a bowl
