The moonlight was terrifyingly pale.
The shining light pulsated through the trees, casting distorted and gruesome shadows, as if they were ghostlike.
Inside the house.
On an incredibly old but polished candle holder, a candle flickered unsteadily.
Under its light.
Little Kuihua, an emaciated figure, carefully took out a neatly folded bundle from a small wooden box by the bed, missing a corner.
She solemnly opened the bundle.
Inside was a patched up, plain little dress.
This was the only decent piece of clothing she had.
Turning her head.
Her gaze inadvertently shifted from the little dress in her hand to a silver ingot hidden in the corner of the box.
A sense of relief flashed across Little Kuihua's face.
...
...
"Hehe, little brother, do you think sister's dress looks nice?"
Little Kuihua woke up her four or five-year-old little brother, cheerfully spun around on the ground beside the bed, then blushed, and asked shyly.
On the bed.
