It was overcast and the wind was howling on the tenth day of my pandemic isolation. I was sitting by the window when I saw an old man came out of the next corridor. He walked to the door with a rusty iron cane in his hand, his face worn with vicissitudes. Upon noticing that, one of the community volunteers approached and inquired, “What can I do for you?” “I want to buy a bag of salt,” the old man replied hoarsely. “We’ll buy it for you. Do you need anything else?” “All I need is a bag of salt.” Then he took out a handful of coins from his pocket, counted them and said, “Here's 3 yuan.” “Take the money back and we’ll get it covered. Please leave your telephone number and call us if you need any help.” The old man told him, dabbing his eyes with the edge of his coat.

After a while, the volunteer trotted back, carrying a large plastic bag. Looking through the bag, I saw several bags of salt, along with some biscuits, milk and vegetables, which were all for the old man. Subsequently, I heard two volunteers in the corridor saying, “Poor old man, he is the only one in the house and nearly has nothing. These will sustain him for several days. Remember to call him every day...” Hearing that, my eyes were blurred with tears. On the chilly winter days, they gave up staying in their cozy homes but chose to work around the clock to serve others. They consistently stuck to their posts regardless of how bad the weather could be. Every day, not only did they check the temperature of the residents in the community, but also helped us purchase daily necessities. On top of that, they took the initiative to care for and assist the old man without asking for any reward. I was deeply touched by their dedication as well as their kindness and love.

It was the volunteers that gave me the warmest love in the days of my being kept in isolation, and it was them that made me believe that the bitter and devastating winter, severe as it was, would ultimately be filled with warmth, and love was always with us in the days of isolation.