His face streaming with tears, Ouyang twisted the electric scooter's throttle with all his might. Whenever he thought of the fire at the orphanage, he would suddenly howl in anguish again.
Such a strange man drew sidelong looks from the passersby, who turned to look at that wretched, pitiful figure.
When you became pitiful, other people became kind.
Even the traffic lights were the same. With green lights all the way, Ouyang raced like the wind toward that familiar place.
At the mouth of the alley, Ouyang accidentally ran over a brick. The handlebars slipped out of his control, and he went flying headfirst.
The takeout in the delivery box spilled out at once, splashing broth and sauces all over Ouyang.
But with his mind fixed entirely on saving people, Ouyang paid no attention. He scrambled up and limped toward the orphanage gates.
When your lot was bitter, suffering seemed unwilling to let you go.
Using every last bit of his strength, Ouyang finally reached the orphanage gates.
It stood in a little alley in the old part of town, its dilapidated gates silently telling of its age and neglect.
Ouyang collapsed to the ground, staring blankly at the old building before him, as though all the strength had been drained from his body.
Though old and shabby, the building stood before him completely intact.
There was no fire, no wailing. Nothing had happened.
Ouyang sat on the ground, staring blankly at the familiar old building before him, the place where he had lived all through his childhood.
Then, as though remembering something, Ouyang pulled his phone, its screen already shattered, from his pocket.
11:27
The orphanage should have been a sea of flames long before now, yet it stood before him completely intact.
Had I remembered it wrong?
Ouyang