Early in the morning, dew still lingering on the tin roof, the woman stooped to enter the market. Her arms were hunched over an old basket, her eyes blinking as she looked at the piles of colorful vegetables. Each step was heavy, as if the earth was trying to hold her back. In her heart, she told herself: “Just a few vegetables, my daughter and grandchildren are waiting at home.” But around her, the cheerful greetings, mixed with laughter, made her feel lost.

She walked to a vegetable stall, her eyes following the remaining bunches of vegetables. The vegetable vendor, about her age, shook his head with a serious face: “I don’t give away things that I want to throw away.” His stiff voice made her heart clench, his eyes slightly sad. The people around smacked their lips, shook their heads, and pursed their lips: “Is she suffering like this?” She just pursed her lips, bent down, and picked up a few remaining wilted vegetables.

She turned her head away, but the vegetable seller’s gaze was still on her. She could clearly feel every scrutinizing gaze, every whisper of sneering: “You’re so miserable and still dare to ask.” A feeling of humiliation crept in, making her want to turn around and leave immediately. But the image of her daughter waiting at home, her innocent eyes, held her back. She took a deep breath, trying to suppress her feelings of grievance.

Suddenly, the vegetable seller bent down again, gathering a bunch of fresh, green vegetables. She bent down, her hands trembling as the seller pushed the bunch of vegetables into her hands. “This is worth cooking for the family,” his voice softened, full of humanity. She looked up, tears welling up, unable to believe what had just happened. She hugged the bunch of vegetables tightly, a warm feeling creeping into her heart, as if a small fire was about to flare up in her cold heart.

On the way home, she walked slowly, each step seemed to emphasize her fatigue but also contained joy. Every time she looked down at her basket, she smiled, her heart strangely relieved. The sunlight shone through the thatched roof, casting sparkling spots of light on the market street. She told herself that sometimes in life, just a small gesture was enough to warm the heart. The days of hardship and struggle, perhaps it was because of moments like this that she continued walking.

When she got home, she called her daughter and grandchild to the kitchen. “Mom has fresh vegetables, let’s make some soup for breakfast,” she said, her voice choked with happiness. Her daughter’s eyes widened as she looked at her mother, as if she had just witnessed a miracle in everyday life. The child cheered, ran around the kitchen, and sniffed at the smell of green vegetables. She stood watching, her heart filled with a small but profound pride.

The pot was simmering on the stove, smoke rising, mixed with the smell of fresh vegetables and the strong smell of the earth. She sat down on the chair, still holding the bunch of vegetables, looking at each stem and leaf. In that moment, she felt as if she had been given more strength. All the hardships, worries, and jealousy at the market seemed to disappear. Everything became light, leaving only a rare peace that crept into her soul.

Sitting at the dining table, she quietly cut vegetables, her hands shaking but her eyes shining. Her daughter looked at her mother and asked, “Mom, why are you smiling?” She smiled, not saying anything, just shook her head slightly, as if to hide the pain she had just experienced. The child looked at her mother, then at her, shrugged, not understanding what was going on, but still happy. In her heart, something gentle had just sprouted, like a small but sure seed of hope.

The breakfast was filled with laughter, but she sat still, occasionally sighing. Every bite of vegetable, every spoonful of soup, reminded her of the greengrocer’s eyes that morning. A feeling of gratitude crept into her heart, making her realize that kindness always exists, even when it is sometimes tested. She smiled, as if she wanted to hold on to this moment forever.

After washing the dishes, she sat down on the windowsill and looked out at the street. People were bustling about, and the cries of vendors were still ringing out. She felt small in this vast world, but at the same time, she felt she was still capable of holding on to small joys. She told herself that no one was rich in love, but if they knew how to share, life would be gentler. Each gust of wind blew through her hair, carrying the scent of soil and fresh vegetables, making her heart strangely warm.