The night was deep and tranquil.
He Jing was startled awake by a noise, as she was always a light sleeper, waking up at even the slightest rustling during the night.
In the darkness, a figure flitted past her eyes.
"Who?"
She sat up in bed in alarm, reaching to turn on the bedside lamp while her other hand had already slipped beneath the pillow, touching the fruit knife she had hidden there.
"Jingjing, it's me, it's me!"
A ragged but familiar voice rang in her ears, and as the light suddenly filled the room, He Jing recognized the man before her.
The man was drenched to the skin, covered in filth as if he had just crawled out of a garbage heap, and a pungent stench assaulted the nostrils when one drew near.
"Dad?" He Jing looked at him, her eyebrows immediately knitting together.
"Yes, it's me," He Jinjiu muttered as he grabbed a tissue and began to wipe off the dirt on his body.
There was a "clack," and the light in the room suddenly went out again.
