The cold air is like countless ice needles, piercing into the seams of bones.
Lin Wan'er huddled on the pile of moldy straw mats in the corner. Every tremor of her body was caused by the pain emanating from deep within her bones.
The fever turned her brain into mush.
Everything in front of me was twisting and shaking.
The broken window paper was torn open by the wind, and the howling night poured in, like a wild ghost crying.
My stomach was already empty, and I was twitching with hunger.
On the ground next to it, there was a rough porcelain bowl with its mouth open upside down.
The little porridge left at the bottom of the bowl has long gone rancid.
The rancid smell, mixed with the musty smell, penetrated her nostrils and made her stomach churn.
She wants to drink water.
My throat was so dry that it felt like it was about to crack, and my lips were covered with white skin.
But she didn't even have the strength to raise her head.
