As night falls, the bustling streets are lit up with colorful neon lights, and the bustling crowds flow endlessly. In this bustling city, there is an area that seems out of place.
The low-rise houses were about to collapse in the wind, with peeling walls revealing red and black bricks. The narrow aisles were filled with clothes to dry, and pots and pans were piled randomly at the door. Along with them were bottles and cans picked from countless garbage piles and packed in woven bags with holes.
In one of the rental houses, a little boy kept rubbing his hands and crying with tears on his face: "I don't dare anymore. I beg you, don't hit me again, daddy!"
"Who is your father! I don't know where your cheap mother brought the little bastard from. She ran away with someone else and left you to be raised by me." The middle-aged man, who was holding a wine bottle in his hand and with a somewhat unstable figure, cursed at the boy. As he spoke, he nodded the little boy's head vigorously with his index finger.
"You little bastard, let's see if I don't beat you to death today..." The little boy's shrill scream echoed in the unsoundproofed rental house, slowly disappearing into the dark night with the wind.