“娘，我去了啊。”叶长生含糊应着，手里还攥着半块干硬的饼，飞快地朝后院冲去。他娘总说他吃相难看，但叶长生才不管这些，饼是娘刚烙的，带着麦子的香气，他吸溜着口水，心里美滋滋的。后院那片荒地早就被他承包了。

他爹死的早，就剩他和娘相依为命。娘是个老实人，靠打零工养活他们，叶长生从小就懂事，尽量不让娘操劳。但这饼……他娘说要留着给叶长生带去镇上卖，能赚点嚼谷。叶长生嚼着那硬邦邦的饼，心里又酸又自责。

后院那片荒地，是叶长生退学后的“事业”。他娘 emissions him to study, but he found books duller than a stone. He was more at home with the soil and the seeds. He tilled the land, planted vegetables, and eventually sold the fresh produce in the town market. The meager earnings went a long way in easing his mother's burden.

One day, a wanderer arrived in town. He was an old man, robed in tattered rags, with eyes that seemed to have seen the world. He approached叶长生 with a sense of recognition.

"Child," the old man said, his voice like a gentle breeze, "you have the aura of an ancient lineage."

叶长生 was intrigued. He had always felt a sense of otherworldliness about himself, but he had never understood the source.

"Who are you?"叶长生 asked, his curiosity piqued.