The more he thought about those things, the more fragile his spirit became.
This world was not as wonderful as he had imagined.
There were many things that were terrifying, filthy, and disgusting.
And his memory was too good, his brain cells too active. Even when he tried hard to forget the unpleasant things, they would still leap into his mind from time to time, forcing him to recall them, making the impressions deeper and harder to forget.
The more he thought, the more anxious and scared Xiaocong became.
A servant suddenly walked by, startling him; he thought it was a bad person. His little body shot upright in an instant, staring at him defensively.
The servant asked in surprise, "Young master, what's wrong?"
"Nothing..." Xiaocong shook his head and turned to run upstairs.
He pushed open Rong Guangguo's room and saw him lying on the bed, eyes closed, as if asleep.
No other adults were at home except for his great-grandfather.
