The man remained bent slightly forward, his eyes rolling back and his mouth hanging wide open. Blood trickled from his mouth, forming a tiny waterfall.
The onlookers erupted in screams and commotion.
Blood was also seeping from the man's chest, slowly soaking into his yellowed shirt.
The doctors and nurses nearby were too stunned to react, and the other bystanders were even worse.
Mo Xiaoling watched the man die with an indifferent expression.
Suddenly, a tear slid from the corner of her eye.
Her emotions remained still, but the tears wouldn't stop.
At that moment, the ten-year-old girl was lost and helpless. She could only cry, just as she had when she was a baby. The difference was that no matter how hard she cried now, no one would comfort her, worry over her, or take her from doctor to doctor in search of a cure.
The chaotic street scene disappeared.
Mo Xiaoling knelt in front of the room. Beyond the threshold, her grandmother sobbed and cursed. She berated Mo Xiaoling mercilessly, but didn't dare step over the threshold. Nor did she dare let her flailing hands land on Mo Xiaoling.
I caught the scent of incense drifting into the room, and saw the funeral hall for Mo Xiaoling's father. His portrait stood on the altar. On the cabinet beside it were her mother's portrait and an urn.
I turned around to look at Mo Xiaoling.
She neither cried nor made a fuss. The aftereffects of the death scene still caused her a dull ache, but she didn't show it at all.
"...You little jinx! I knew you'd bring death to our whole family! What did we do to deserve this? Heaven, are you blind? Strike this jinx dead!" Mo Xiaoling's grandmother pounded her chest, wailing herself hoarse.
Her grandfather