Oliver Quach asked about Louis Snyder’s work again.
As an artist, his schedule is hectic and often involves traveling all over the country with very little downti.
Although Louis Snyder is not quite a top-tier celebrity, he was still considered a rising male actor. With sound progress, advancing to the A-list could happen swiftly.
Oliver Quach didn’t quite understand all this and was just making conversation.
After all, Louis Snyder had been spending most of his ti at the Yarn Family ho, except for one week each month he went out, which really didn’t seem typical for an actor.
Louis gave an explanation, "I requested it myself, wanting to take so ti off."
Oliver casually ntioned, "Isn’t there a female artist from your circle who recently got into trouble and was taken to the police station?"
There was only one such incident during this ti.
Louis gave the answer, "Tiffany Lynch."
Oliver rembered, "Right, Tiffany Lynch."
Seeing Oliver’s reaction, Louis asked, "Do you know her?"
"Tiffany Lynch, the only daughter of the Lynch Family; I do have so recollection," Oliver explained, then turned the subject back to Louis, "I saw on the news, it seems like there’s so connection between you two, right?"
Louis paused for a mont and didn’t hide the truth, "We used to know each other."
Seeing Louis speak like this, Oliver didn’t inquire further and simply gave a few casual instructions before letting Louis leave.
Back in his room, facing the emptiness before him, Louis fell into his mories once more.
He didn’t just know Tiffany Lynch; they had t quite early on.
A long ti ago.
When he was still a child.
His family had no money, and any money that ca their way was quickly squandered by his alcoholic father.
If not on alcohol, then at the gambling tables.
As for his mother, who had "escaped" from a wealthy family to beco the Eldest Miss, it was unrealistic to expect her to work and earn a living.
Without money, he couldn’t even attend school.
From a very young age, he could only survive day by day by rummaging through trash cans for food.
It started near his ho, but when he noticed the neighbors pointing fingers and even looking at him with pity, he decided to change locations.
That year, he was eight years old.
He was already learning to make money by picking up trash.
Bottles, cardboard, he would collect anything that could be sold.
The occasional half-eaten piece of bread left by soone was to him akin to the finest Western cuisine.
He wolfed down his finds, forgetting that it was the ti when school got out for the day.
It was sumr, and the sunlight dazzled.
Though it was just morning, the breakfasts discarded by the students in the trash bins were already emitting a foul, rancid sll.
Nobody wanted to co near.
So when the students saw a kid about their age, dirty and unkempt, picking through the trash, they curiously gathered around.
"Ew, he’s so dirty. Didn’t he take a bath? He even slls weird."
"Why is he picking through the trash to eat? That’s so unhygienic. His stomach must be full of bugs. Let’s not deal with him."
"He’s definitely skipping school. I’m going to tell the teacher so they can catch him."
"Are you dumb? He’s not a student from our school. Look at him; he’s clearly a beggar."
"What’s a beggar?"
Sharp words wrapped in innocent tones and youthful ignorance are often dismissed as child’s talk, not to be taken to heart.
Child’s talk is harmless, they say. Don’t take it personally.
But for the eight-year-old Louis, that was the darkest mont of his life.
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