"Sir, do you want to buy flowers?" asked a small voice.
Yang Ming raised his head. He noticed a little girl holding a bundle of flowers looking at him pitifully.
"How much?" asked Yang Ming.
"Ten... ten yuan..." The little girl said carefully.
Christmas flowers were more expensive, and Yang Ming knew it well too. He gazed at the pitiful little girl and he said, "Give me a flower."
As Yang Ming spoke, he took out ten yuan.
"Elder brother... can you buy more?" The little girl hurriedly said, "I beg of you... I have sold merely six of them today. If I don't sell enough, I will be beaten up at night..."
"Beaten up?" Yang Ming frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I... elder brother, please don't ask anymore..." When the little girl spoke, her gaze moved to a bench not far away.
