
That boy was ten-year-old Minh. He had no parents. All he remembered was that when he was barely two, old man Bay, an old beggar living under a bridge, found him inside a plastic tub that had been swept away by the canal.
At that time, Minh couldn’t speak yet; he only cried until his voice was gone. Around his neck was a red bracelet made of almost faded thread and an old piece of paper with a written message:
“Please, whoever has a good heart, take care of this child. His name is Minh.”
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