There are two women standing in front of a market with baskets of food

Under the banyan tree at the pier of Pumiao Town, an old grandma wearing traditional Zhuang ethnic attire and adorned with flowers on her head is standing in her own congee shop. With a smile on her face, she hands a steaming bowl of congee to an elderly grandpa who is worn-out, wearing tattered clothes, and showing signs of hardship. Behind the grandpa, there is a long line of people. They are all dressed in ragged clothes, their faces filled with longing as they gaze at the pot of congee in front of the old grandma. Some of them touch their bellies, some wipe the drool at the corners of their mouths, some eagerly tiptoe to count how many people are ahead, and others stretch their necks to inhale the aroma of the congee permeating in the air.