The village had lost a child, and following tradition, funeral arrangements were made.
Mianmian's parents stayed by her side, not daring to leave her for even a step.
"Wife, I heard from Liu Zhuzi that Ermao's mother has gone mad. Whenever she sees children, she beats and scolds them, blaming them for not saving her Ermao. Let's try to keep Mianmian indoors as much as possible," he said.
"That's right, that's right, husband, I feel that our Mianmian... might really have..."
Looking at Little Bun quietly eating a pastry, the couple sighed in unison.
They knew their daughter well; she was usually chatty, always wearing a sweet smile on her face. Not even four years old, at home she was like a little grown-up, helping move stools and sweep the floor, lively and adorable.
But ever since that day when she went out to play with the other children and had her heart taken out by Ermao, she stopped talking, sometimes spacing out, as though she had lost her soul.