The night swallowed up the hustle and bustle of the city. Under the overpass, the cold concrete pillars were the only support.
Seven-year-old Lin Xuan hugged his sister Xiaoya tightly.
Xiaoya was only two years old. She smacked her mouth in her sleep, her little face turned blue from the cold, but strangely with a trace of satisfaction.
He himself was hungry and his stomach was empty, but the warmth in his arms was real.
The surrounding reinforced concrete jungle exudes a chill that is far away, and the neon lights are flashing, but they cannot illuminate the corner where they are huddled, and instead reflect the darkness here.
Lin Xuan's eyes did not belong to his age.
