Jiangcheng, the backyard of Zhao's manor.
The stench filled the air. In a large rusty iron cage, there lay a whimpering, dirty dog. Next to the dog, curled up was an even smaller figure.
It was a little girl, about four or five years old, with yellow and knotted hair, and her little face was covered with mud and tears. The colorless singlet on her body was too torn to cover her bony arms. The most glaring thing was that there was a rough iron collar on her delicate neck, and an iron chain locked her tightly with the kennel.
"You little bastard, bark like a dog! If you bark nicely, I will reward you with a piece of steamed bun!" A chubby boy wearing brand-name children's clothing was grinning and poking the little girl in the cage with a branch. There were a few sharp stones beside him.
The little girl shivered, closed her eyes tightly, bit her lips until they turned white, but remained stubbornly silent.
"Bang!" A stone hit her forehead, which immediately became red and swollen.
