Ling Xiaoyu always remembered that afternoon. Near dusk, the sky was dim as usual, but there was a touch of red on the edge. The red was so sad and bright that it made people's hearts beat wildly. Ling Xiaoyu couldn't tell whether she was three or four years old at the time. What was clear was the feeling of her cheek against the door, which was rough and cold.
Completed.
Conception: