That was her former self, yet so alien that she felt as if she were another person.
Five- or six-year-old Lu Tong ran past her like a wisp of wind that couldn't be caught, and she instinctively followed the shadow of the girl's rapid sprint, only to see the little girl standing behind her, looking at her with a face full of shock and suspicion, "Who are you?"
"I am... Who?" she murmured in repeat.
The moonlight was gradually obscured by clouds, no longer bright; her past family stood together, their gazes complex, interwoven with suspicion as if looking at a dangerous stranger who had suddenly intruded.
Lu Rou held Lu Tong tightly in her arms, as Lu Qian looked at her with surprise and exclaimed, "Blood!"
So Lu Tong looked down.
She didn't know when her hands became soaked in fresh blood, that sticky blood tinted with a thick smell dripping drop by drop from her fingertips, seemingly endless, forming a small puddle of blood on the ground.
She looked on blankly.