This was the only thing Yang Ge had ever asked him for help with in the six months he had been staying at the inn, and he truly couldn't refuse.,After securing the food, he went into the kitchen as if he knew it by heart and pulled out an old, rusty hand sickle. Ignoring the old man's repeated pleas of "Don't worry about it" and "Take a break first," he left in strides, pushing his tricycle.,Sensing the old man's gaze, Yang Ge also turned his head to glance at the tattered fishing net beside him.。