"She still had an eight-year-old boy at home. Ginny had started working at a very young age, and after her father died, she took on the burden of supporting the family."
"At first, she washed clothes at home, but two years ago, she was fortunate enough to become a textile mill worker, which made life a little easier for her family. Unfortunately, it did not last long. Not long ago, she lost her job."
"So that poor child could only return to washing clothes. She had originally been barely able to keep the family afloat, but her mother's illness worsened. To earn more money, the child washed clothes during the day and, at night, went out onto the streets to solicit customers."
"Yes, she became a streetwalker. But just last week, she was murdered. Poor Ginny... she had hoped that once she saved enough money, she would stop doing that kind of work."
"She wanted to attend night school. She had gone for a while, but stopped because of work. Look at that wall. Whenever she grew tired while washing clothes, she would use a stone to write words on it."
"She tried so hard to change, but in the end, she died. She was only fifteen."
At that point, the laundry woman shook her head and sighed, lamenting the girl's fate.
Sifa could not help looking toward the wall. Beneath it, in the corner, the dead girl was still washing clothes.
Her eyes were hollow, her expression numb, and she was unaware of everything.
"Then what about her family? Do you know where they moved to?" After hearing Ginny's story, Sifa felt an indescribable heaviness. If he knew where Ginny's family was, he wanted to help them.
"I don't know. Ginny died, and the mother and son could no