I am, Manfred Andrés

　　On the way back to the bridge, I was stopped. It's really annoying, it's this group of people again.

　　"Hey, little bum, did you get food today?" Again the bastard with a scar on his face.

　　"Haha, I guess not, otherwise how could he be thin-faced?"

　　"No, no, no, he's always been like this, a child without a father and a mother."

　　"Oooh oh! Hahaha! "

　　"Please let me go, I want to pass through here." I looked them straight in the eye and said without humility or arrogance.

　　"Want to pass through here? Okay, get through here. The scar man gave me a contemptuous look and pointed to his crotch.

　　"Hahaha, drill, how about you drill us not only let you pass, but also give you a piece of bread?" One of them laughed, pulled a moldy piece of black bread out of his pocket, and said to me.

　　"Not only bread, but also beer, you see, fresh beer!" Another person was holding a bottle. From the smell wafting out of the bottle, I knew it wasn't beer at all.

　　When the others heard this, they all laughed unscrupulously.

　　I didn't speak, just looked directly into the eyes of the man in the lead.

　　"Bah!" The man spat and laughed at his so-called brothers and said, "Yo, look, he's still staring at me, haha, I'll make you glare!" After saying that, he kicked me in the chest, and the others beat me fiercely as if they had heard the order.

　　I could only hold my head as best I could, huddle and endure.

　　This is already the norm.

　　I was an orphan and I was only seven years old when my parents left me. I forgot how they died, and I can't remember exactly how I wandered to the city. I don't even know what my name is—the name stuff really doesn't work for me.

　　In my memory, the city was lively for a while. There were many people running down the street, and I saw them all carrying a lot of beautiful or golden things in their hands, going to a shop full of bread to change some bread.

　　Soon, the bread in the bakery was changed by them, and the people who came behind could not change anything, whether they begged or cursed.

　　From the mutterings of those who left, I learned that our country surrendered and needed to compensate large sums of money, so what the economy or something collapsed. I didn't understand these things, I only knew that the bakery on the street that would give me expired bread never gave me anything to eat again.

　　At one point I thought I was starving to death. But fortunately, God did not give up on me (I don't know what God is, but in the church where food is distributed, people often pray for God's mercy), and a friend of mine told me that three streets away, there is a small building, and every night a middle-aged woman will come out with some food and distribute it to the surrounding homeless.

　　I was overjoyed and immediately rushed to the small building with my friends to wait.

　　In the evening, sure enough, a middle-aged woman walked out of the door with food, and the homeless people waiting around hurriedly surrounded her. My friend and I also tried to squeeze in, and since we were both small, we easily got through the gap to the front.

　　The middle-aged woman noticed both of us, "Poor boy, take this bread." She said and handed us two of us a loaf of bread.

　　We immediately put our hands in our mouths because we had noticed the look in the eyes of the person next to us.

　　In this way, we showed up there on time every evening, and the middle-aged women also brought us food on time.

　　The food she gave us was really amazing, no mold, just some bites, but more were complete.

　　These days passed for about three years, until one evening we saw a group of men in black police uniforms burst into the building with guns. Then several gunshots rang out, and since then, the middle-aged woman has not appeared to bring us food.

　　Later I learned that the name of the group was the Gestapo, and they went in to liquidate those who betrayed the motherland. Those traitors have obtained huge wealth by selling their compatriots, which is why everyone is now worried about eating, and the people in the small building never worry about food, so rich that some food is thrown away after a bite.

　　And the one who brought us food was a maid in the small building, and the Gestapo did not embarrass her, but sent her back to the country.

　　Although I regret that there is no food source for Xiaolou, I will not starve to death because of it - the bakery on the street has expired bread for us homeless people.

　　It should be that the "economy" thing is back, right?

　　I personally think that people are ugly, and when they were desperately thinking yesterday about where tomorrow's food would be, they were all kind priests. But as soon as they start worrying about tomorrow's food, some people start having fun.

　　Some are more normal entertainment, others are for fun in hurting people who can't hold their fists.

　　Scarface people belong to the latter category. I can't remember when they started to bully me every day. Maybe it's because I'm tired from working during the day, or maybe it's in front of other people with bigger fists than them, I don't know.

　　I felt humiliated and angry about it, but I didn't resist every time, because I knew that this senseless resistance would only bring them greater happiness and hurt me more unless I had enough strength.

　　It's the same today. After beating me, they laughed and left together as usual.

　　I slowly got up from the ground, wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, and limped towards the bridge where I lived.

　　I swore that when I walked with enough strength, I would take revenge on them, and I took every punch and kick to heart.

　　Walking back to the bridge cave in pain, I took out some tarmet bread from my arms, but fortunately, it was not broken while I was blocking it with my body.

　　The bread was a little dry, and I accidentally choked and quickly touched the depths of the bridge hole behind me, where there was a broken bottle I had picked up to hold water. But then a bottle of water suddenly appeared in front of me, and it was sticking out from behind me.

　　I forgot for a moment the pain of choking and slowly turned my head to look behind me.

　　A man crouched behind me, wearing the same black uniform I'd seen before!

　　He smiled, stretched out the water bottle to me, and gestured for a drink. I didn't recover from the shock, just took the water bottle blankly and took a long sip.

　　"Want revenge?" He asked me with a smile.

　　I looked at him stunned, I didn't know who he was, I didn't know how he got behind me, and I didn't know what revenge meant.

　　He repeated again: "Want revenge? Take revenge on all those who bullied you and ruined everything. "

　　I nodded subconsciously.

　　When he saw me nodding, he waved his hand back, and several men dressed in the same clothes as him appeared in front of me with a few people who had fun bullying me, one by one.

　　He took a pistol from the person next to him, put it on my hand, and taught me how to use it: "Take it down here, this is to release the insurance." Pull the sleeve back and the bullet is loaded. Just aim the trigger at the person you want to kill. Well, come out and find me when you're done, I'll wait for you outside. "

　　He then led the others out of the bridge, leaving me with a pistol.

　　I turned to look at the group of scum, and now they no longer had the madness, the joy of bullying me, only twisted fear and snot and tears on their faces.

　　"Hahaha." I laughed, or cried, "Have you ever thought about what it looks like?" "

　　"Let me go, I really don't dare anymore." Scarface cried and said to me, twisting desperately to try to come over, but unfortunately they were all tied up, and the struggle was just futile.

　　How could I let them go? Raising the pistol, I shot after shot into the chests of anyone except Scarface.

　　Finally I took the pistol, walked to Scarface covered in blood, looked at him pitifully for a while, and punched all the remaining bullets in the gun into his body.

　　I had never felt so happy, and an indescribable feeling appeared in my heart.

　　I walked out of the bridge and handed the gun back to the man.

　　"What's your name?" I asked boldly, feeling inappropriate, covered in blood.

　　"My name is Leon Andrés, you can call me General Leon." He was still smiling, as if ignoring my blood.

　　"Can I follow you later?" I asked again.

　　"How can you help me?"

　　"You give me food, I'll help you kill, is that okay?"

　　"Although I don't lack you as a killer, it's a great offer. What is your name? "

　　"I am... I'm Manfred Andrés! "