The little girl shrank back even more.
She remembered the nursery rhyme "Little Bunny, Be Good" taught by her kindergarten teacher. She knew that a good and obedient child definitely shouldn't open the door at this time.
"Qing Yue... come out... come out..."
The person outside seemed to have realized they couldn't lure her out and simply invited her to come out and play.
The girl didn't move, silently muttering the nursery rhyme.
"I won't open, I won't open, I won't open the door. Mom hasn't come home, I won't open for anyone."
Mom... Her mom wasn't just "not home"; she was seriously ill, lying in bed, unable to protect or help her. The girl had to rely on herself for everything.
She wrapped her arms around her knees, burying her face in them as if she was shutting herself in that enclosed world, unwilling to think about her mom, ignoring the persistent calling from outside the door.
Just like that, time passed, and how much—
