A small bag of puffed grain, lost and forgotten in a corner. When it first went missing, the child cried so ha…
A small bag of puffed grain, lost and forgotten in a corner. When it first went missing, the child cried so hard he threw the whole inn into a panic.
No one knew the Mi child's full name. People just called him Little Mi, Little Glutton, or the puffed-grain kid. He didn't care. All he wanted was a good song, a dancing big sister to tease him, and his mother smiling as she kept stuffing his little pouch with fresh puffed grain.
"Father, you said you lost our home… at an inn in Liangzhou?" Mi Jiarong asked.
"Yes. I thought I'd lost it. But I've only now realized that I brought it with me."
The Chang'an-born boy didn't understand what his father meant, much like a young man surnamed Lian who couldn't make sense of his grandfather's strange and magnificent stories. Still, he tried his best to follow along.
"You brought our lost home with you?"
"Yes..." Little Mi beamed, shook his hand drum, and hummed a tune he knew by heart.
They say the best Liangzhou was sung by that puffed-grain kid.