In a cluster of old alleyways on the outskirts, a little girl crouched in a corner. Under the hazy moonlight, her shoulders could be seen trembling slightly, as though she were crying.
Her sobs carried far, mournful and pitiful.
Just then, a voice rang out.
"I love you walking dark alleys alone..."
The little girl froze, then blurted out almost instinctively, "I love the way you refuse to kneel!"
"I love you facing despair..."
"Refusing to shed a tear!"
"I love your tattered clothes..."
"Yet you dare face the gun of fate!"
"..."
The little girl grew more and more excited as she sang. Involuntarily, she stood up, clenching her fists and waving them hard, one foot unconsciously stomping wildly on the ground.
"Who says only those standing in the light count as heroes!"
The man behind her had a rich, mellow voice. With a perfect key change, he sang the chorus, and the little girl grew so excited she nearly stomped her shoes off.
Both stopped, thoroughly satisfied.
Only heavy breathing remained. The man and the little girl both seemed immersed in the beauty of the song, savoring it for nearly ten minutes.
"Uncle, I have to say, you get me. In your song, I heard the hot-blooded spirit of our age group!"
The little girl spoke quietly.
It had gone unnoticed while she was singing, but now her voice sounded strange, as though she had something in her mouth, making her speech muffled.
Anyone hearing that voice would certainly have a question arise in their mind.
Just then.
The little girl turned around, resolving that question at precisely the right moment.
Her face was covered in blood, and she held a round object that had been gnawed into a bloody mess, with long black hair trailing along the